Long Worldly Poems
Long Worldly Poems. Below are the most popular long Worldly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Worldly poems by poem length and keyword.
The people surrounding me keep asking “why are you going back and forth uneasily on the empty stage shedding crocodile tears, and telling the stories of negative effects on others, though you are not of a man of faculty who is even able to produce a theory comparable to 'Blind Will of Universe', one of worst hypothesizes a man can think of.
It’s because though,
when a worldly-minded snob shouts from a podium
“you should have a positive attitude,” while displaying
his resume proudly with the title that is little-to-do with his personality,
his limited academic background that barely conceals the lack of intelligence, and insignificant accomplishment with somewhat concocted experience hiding his real being and thought, he receives respect from the audience who fascinated by every movement the snob makes in the form of applaud with standing ovation, I was always treated badly from audience, fed only by unwelcome astringent fruits of rejection and drink bitter tasting water sprang from unwanted rotten roots to quench my desire…
And that’s why the course of my reasoning became negative,
and, as a natural consequence, no matter how often you may say
to the audience “you ought to be a person of positive attitude,”
since there are more negative aspects surrounding us than
the positive elements, and that’s why I was accepted by
others negatively. More importantly, I was treated negatively
from others simply because reality goes before me.
Although positive thinkers boast themselves as if their thoughts are
sound and healthy, by saying that the water in a cup is half full;
negative thinkers sigh with a defected air and say that a cup is
half empty. However, it doesn’t make any difference how you think,
men’s thoughts cannot surpass the physical phenomena
and, therefore, a half is a half, no more nor less than a half.
In the boundary and limit is as such, whether you like it or not,
men have to go on the path of their own destiny.
Then, why does everyone has to have a positive attitude? I suppose,
that is, not more than a writhe of the men who won’t admit reality
in desperate agony. That’s the self-gratification of men
who are not able to face the facts as they are.
[The irony is, nonetheless, man is able to bear and raise a baby
by an act of self-gratification. It’s amazing, the world is a place
full of wonders.]
There are visions roving inside my head
of a time and place where perhaps I once lived.
But how do I know of those worldly things
if I no longer exist? I must question if I ever did.
I am off kilter, as if I'm an invisible entity,
a salty speck of foam floating on a sapphire sea.
Should I feel dire despair, indifference, or jubilant joy
that I am not part of this place that's been laid to waste?
It's as if I'm surfing in shadows over what used to be
an amusement park, but the Ferris Wheel is broken,
and there's no spark of life anywhere to be found.
Only faded pamphlets lying on the ground, sun-bleached
remnants of the way life used to be, once upon a time.
I pity me for having been given this gloomy glimpse,
a vandalized view that no one could misconstrue.
I feel like Alice wandering through a frightening fantasy.
Desperately wanting to go back through the looking glass
and forget the devastation in which the world dwells.
If I ever had an inkling of what living in hell would be,
then in this chaotic clime, this dysfunctional dystopia,
I would seek to escape my existence and set myself free.
I feel the need for fresh air, but who would care
if I should have lived or died? No one cried tears for me.
What future fate have I discovered with thoughts
hovering? Tragic thoughts that haunt me like a cold stare.
What ill winds have swept the world away?
Cursed be!
How can anything exist is this sorrowful sepulcher?
I'd rather be a soulless specter without a home
then live among those in this lamenting land.
This is not Aldous Huxley's Brave New World.
It does no good to imagine a world without me.
Friendships made; children born; none of those would exist.
I can only envision these things. These things that I've given wing.
They roam inside my head, making me wonder if I had a beginning
or an end. I feel repercussions from having a discussion
with myself over the conceptual conundrum of my existence.
Would I have been happy, would I have made others happy,
or brought them grief like the thief who collects the dead?
It's a nightmare of reality, for I am sure it's not a daydream.
Greed played its Trump card and schemed to sit on the throne
in a kingdom I could never contentedly condone.
I've no desire to dally here a moment longer, and
since I don't exist, I am certain I will not be missed.
In remembrance of a time
Myself, unknowingly was formless and empty
Darkness blocking out the light
Consumed of worldly chaos.
Then one day the light was revealed
Now being able to look back in my life seeing God
Was hovering around until that day
Revealing the darkness that holds one captive
In Christ promised spirit to set one ablaze
To destroy the land one has created on their own
Are received from mankinds deceitful planting
In seeing this world in a whole
Is everything going against God
As always, only to be revealed through
The quickening and manifesting of removing darkness
Not of own works but through the light
Seeing there is this battle within
But light shines out the darkness
That Christ might be the rising light into day
Harvesting in the morning glory of His work
Consumed of His newfound and inexpressible
Joy, peace, and love for all.
May , God bless, comfort, guide and fill you
With His peace, love, spirit and joy in abundance.
That one might be separated
From, night unto a newfound day
Old self unto New living being
Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.
Genesis 1:2?-?5 NIV
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder.
Isaiah 9:2?-?3 NIV
The sun will no more be your light by day, nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you, for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory.
Isaiah 60:19 NIV
Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are healthy, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are unhealthy, your body also is full of darkness. See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness. Therefore, if your whole body is full of light, and no part of it dark, it will be just as full of light as when a lamp shines its light on you.”
Luke 11:34?-?36 NIV
Form:
Their is a God.In flesh we will not see his face.However we will see pieces of him in mother natures face. Natures aqua I indulge in, purity of his being and grace .I take a gander at shallow but deep water, and I nearly catch a glimpse of his face. A image we can not trace, looking into water searching for oddities timidly twinkling behind image of self, in mirror of water. Obfuscated by rays of sun complicating images reflected into water and image of water reflected in soul.None can be clearly perceived,that is mystery,that is the hidden God in all, you and me flower and tree, all covered by hazy mist to guard and separate ,what is and what is not to be know.For reasoning beyond comprehensions and perception.The hands of leaves graciously applaud and sings for a kingdom unknown or shown.A land that is inconceivable beyond feeble flesh and bone perhaps a place where every humans faith may or may not be etched in stone,but for certain we don't walk alone. The hands of leaves sings his song with grandiosity. Singing in code alongside hymns of enchanting species on earth. Songs we are told, but never told to be understood for our own good.If other wise we would all be doomed,for instance God blessed us with geniuses and we make weapons of mass destruction. Why should he unveil more mysteries and knowledge? To cause more malice and destruction? Animals and nature, chant songs of spiritual secrets, worldly an beyond secrets.This knowledge the forbidden fruit, only to suit the beings of another realm but still connecting us to it in ways the flesh can bear.If trees,birds and all of nature could talk human languages, mysteries would be no more. What happens when a bright light flashes in front your eyes? Don't you briefly lose sight? what happens when a loud horn blows in your ear doesn't it ring? The same concepts and effects applys with the high volumes and inconceivable power of our God and mysteries that follow. Imagine the the sounds, the sight and the feeling of the life beyond do you think the flesh can bear or withstand such insurmountable grandeur.The wind so much like God its never seen.The wind so much like God its effects are seen, but still remains invisible.The wind carry's breath death things of all volumes and that which feeble flesh cant perceive,I BELIEVE THE WIND IS GOD..... WHAT DO YOU THINK EINSTEIN.....
BY: Elliott Bowe
Even Dawn Cried About Death Of The Poet
They that see dawn in softest crimson glows
Having sought to embrace the golden moon!
They that ink paradise as a true gift,
Sings praises of the gentle month of June!
Whilst feeding at midnight the hungry crows
Sometimes with iron, and with eager breath
Oft each stands alone, watching dark world turn
Then she that inks paradise as a gift,
With compassion, romantic flames that burn
Wrote faithfully, even unto her death!
Dawn that foretells of living and true love
Helplessly seen as the poetess died
Cast its brightest rays to heaven above
So angels could see how too few cried!
R.J. Lindley, Jan 25th, 1987
*******
Dare We Pray, Humanity Wakes To Be Redeemed
From blacken hills into magical woods we wade
Where golden mushrooms ring shrouds of ancient trees
Praise God, that this earth and humanity he made
Although from great divine wrath it so often flees
In morn's mist, airy shadows rise and slowly fall
'neath hopeful promise of resplendent future state
Whilst those ever beckoning hills heed Nature's calls
Same as man bows to ravages of horrid Fate.
Therein comes immense pleasures of paradise dreams
Too often laced with folly of human schemes
Were it not that love may gift that which hope redeems?
Aye. Love and pleasure are as candy to a child
And thus sweet blessings flow unto those meek and mild
Whereas thistles and thorns pierce deeply those too wild.
Dare we pray, humanity wakes to be redeemed
From evil wickedness, that mankind daily schemes?
R.J. Lindley, March 6th, 1987
Rhyme
*******
From The Virgin Light Into The Dark Mist
There within such immensity of solitude
Rests a billion threads but a sad solitary thought
Of life, earth and barest naked soul therein nude
In worldly prison, dying entity thus caught.
Oh but, tis not that tragedy our daily bread
Fodder for rampaging fires eternally lit
We but sacrifice for those gods long ago dead,
And bawling mass for Hades and its burning pits?
Tis not mankind a true enigma and a bit more
Far, far more than a fallen fly in the hot soup
Once stuck down below but by own hand now can soar
Risen up by vicious might in one dark fell swoop ?
Aye! One may fear to such reality admit
As it leads backward, to thoughts of hot burning pits!
R.J. Lindley, March 22nd, 1987
Rhyme
Late night summons madmen,
madams, bold streetwalkers,
picking pennies from the gutters
as the merchants close their shutters
and the homeless crouch in doorways
in their rags, against the cold.
Black or white, no compromise,
no colours clothe the empty streets,
as Bobbies tread their lonely beats,
the watchmen rub their crusted eyes
and settle into vigilance,
no accident, just circumstance.
Midnight passes.
Leila in her bursting bodice
lingers, guesses who I am
and flaunts her body, all the same
to her, a customer who'll pay
for twenty minutes' satisfaction.
Dressed in taffeta and lace
she'll never even see my face,
night's sweet anonymity,
the very definition of her name.
Later, as the moonbeams shift,
and cloudlines disappear and drift,
come images in stark relief
of twisted metals magnified
that catch the eye, suspend belief.
Abandoned building, hollow-eyed
and squinting in a death mask grip,
skeletal, once filled with pride,
now empty, and for ever tongue-tied,
cadavered, and condemned to drip.
Still later, the street-lamps spot
the cats a'creeping worldly-wise,
and rats along the quayside waiting,
ready for the avalanche
of waste into the yawning dumpsters.
I have seen the children sneaking out
before the dawn comes crawling,
dirty little ragamuffins forced
into leftover clothes,
weepy-eyed and snotty-nosed,
playing with a rotting carcass
or a broken bicycle.
Pre-dawn, and the street-lamp sputters,
merchants come to raise their shutters,
regard the fading moon, and mutter,
'yet another day.'
Begone, O Bride of Midnight!
favour us with not another glance,
put your spells away,
you'll not lead us in our daily dance.
Behold a wrinkled substitute,
a crone who likes to think that she's a queen;
with as much grace as she can muster,
she flusters, fidgets, lonely in her room,
feathered and be-furbelowed
and plays with her decolletage,
she's mutton dressed as lamb.
The smell of stale tobacco
and a whiff of old perfume,
no longer with her entourage
she dances out of rhythm to the tango,
rusty and unconstituted,
wraith-like, a phantom in her tomb.
At twenty past I'm home at last,
the brass plate spells my name;
come inside!
familiar and gratifying,
slippers by my bed still lying,
dressing gown and cap are crying,
here abide!
The sheets are turned and ready.
I leave the night and take a final bow,
grateful for the here and now.
FOCUS ON OUR FAMILIES
The devil is quite busy in most families today,
Though most of us don’t realize the roles that he will play.
He keeps the parents busy with jobs and on the run,
He keeps the children active with all sorts of worldly fun.
He keeps the bankbook busy with things to buy or bills,
He keeps the schedule full of so many worldly thrills.
The social life he offers with the parties or the drinks
Appeals to many people; it’s so much fun, they think.
He keeps the spirit busy with no time for the Lord,
The more that he stays active, the more is his reward.
He fills us with excuses, which we often think are good
Why we can’t be committed and serve God as we should.
He builds in us a spirit that’s critical to be,
And so we look at others and our own faults we don’t see.
He keeps our lives so active with all his sights and sounds
So that when God might need us, we just can’t be around.
He tries his best to keep us so centered on our self
That far too many hours our Bible’s on the shelf.
He lets us spend our money on things we think we need--
A tithe? We can’t afford it! An offering? No, indeed!
And he’s redefined the marriage in many different ways,
It’s now for “live together” and even for the gays.
The parents and the children just don’t communicate,
Instead it is the TV, the CD, or the tape.
And then there are computers or Nintendo games to play,
Or magazines or books to read to fill the time today.
The young folks are rebellious, defying Godly laws,
But don’t you dare to spank them, regardless of the cause!
Keep God out of the schools, the church separate from state,
And don’t speak out on morals which someone violates.
We could go on much longer with all the devil’s schemes,
And as the days keep going, there are new ones, so it seems.
The vision of the family is so obscured and blurred
That we need it corrected through the message from God’s word.
So let’s focus on our families and how to make them strong,
To reinforce commitments, to overcome our wrongs.
For God first made the family, and He has a perfect plan,
So let’s listen to the messages that come now through His man.
They come straight from the Bible, God’s word, tested and true,
Let’s let them clear our vision, and our families renew!
Written for “Focus On Your Family Month,” Heritage Baptist Church, January, 2000.
It is very impressive to go westward
in an early morning of midwinter,
because you will see a full moon
that you have forgotten for a while
in the middle of the western sky.
[The westward moon is, perhaps,
the one that Li T’ai-Po
who was bewitched by
and delighted by a moon so much
chanted poems in praise of the moon
throughout his life,
after breaking a thick frozen ice on the lake,
scooped an August full moon
that is not sunken but still floating
on the surface of water,
and pasted it to the wintry sky.]
Although the air in my car is still cold as ice,
and roadside snow is being melted from salt spray
and messy, covered with splashes of dirty water,
the moon, like a virgin still chaste,
[By manmade machine and men,
the moon, though, lost her virginity long ago,]
looks immaculate and gorgeous as ever.
For the moon
riding high in the western sky
enjoying the honor and admiration that is entitled
only to virgin girls
though she lost it long ago,
the north wind,
because of her envy toward the moon,
was wandering in the frozen waste
pleasure driving a sheer-white chariot
brings a violent snowstorm,
and heartlessly shakes the moon
that barely hangs on the midwinter’s western sky
to fall.
After so much abuse,
kicks, stamps, smacks, and blows of violent wind
that of more than she can bear
the frightened moon flees to south, then to east
with her paled and waning face,
and finally disappears somewhere
where no one will able to find her.
Total darkness covers the earth,
overwhelms to deny everything.
At the edge of this darkness
a somewhat eerie looking hunchbacked creature
[Although he was much intelligent,
yet tenderhearted, a man more sensitive
than the worldly-minded ordinary persons,]
comes and searches for the disappeared moon,
and when he finds
a segment of a shattered piece of moon on the earth,
he embraces it in his bosom with tears of joy,
and falls to the ground with his last breath.
And as a hunchback perishes
a young man with more holes
than the shattered pieces of fallen moon in his rungs,
who always whispered sadly to the waning moon
while leaning against a southward window frame,
comes and carries the hunchback’s remains hurriedly
in the cart to an eastern gateway, with gasping,
to the place where the full moon dwells, with panting.
So once again, with grim countenance, the ship sailed on with all bemoaning their woes
Till calm seas prevailed, with balmy sun, sweet zephyr song, they came to Helios' shores.
Helios, calm god of the day, smiled upon the lads, gave of his land free rein, but with a caveat-
Helios pride was his golden herd, indolent and fat,"Do what you will, but don't touch that"
Well, as was their wont, like a terrible refrain, full-weathered from woes and want, but yet unwise,
The crew, overcome by gluttonous greed, slaughtered a heifer, for raucous feast, not sacrifice.
Wild was Helios at this blatant deceit, with terrible curse, banished them all, to wander once again.
So with Helios' curse (and Neptune's help), the ship was tossed and soon lost, all crew were slain.
It was Odysseus alone who was alive, afloat on flotsam, floating about, with fervent wish of death
But sweet surcease was not his lot, more plight was his fate - his tryst was due with Charybdis yet.
Perhaps Scylla was a better bet, in it's slavering jaws a definite death, I think he'd rather have it
But caught he was in Charybdis' thrall, a vortex which ate him whole, and threw him out as spit.
Past the maelstrom's outer whirl was our hero tossed clinging to life's last hope, verily a straw
Floated, the wasted carricature of a man, denied of food and water, no sustenance he could draw.
But perchance the Gods smiled on him, wearied of their devious, puerile games going too long
Odysseus fell on land once more, where restored were life and limb, bewitched by Calypso's song.
Now Odysseus, all said and done, was a man vulnerable to worldly women's wanton wiles
And Calypso was full besot with our hero's lusty frame, his wit, his deeds and charming smiles.
For seven years did he taste bliss, ensconced in Calypso's arms with thought of home amiss
But one day, after seven years, did Caypso, with heavy heart, let him go on pleas of our Hermes.
From Calypso's isle did Odysseus sail on raft, through storm, as was now his habit, and came to Sceria
Where Nausicca, on Athena's urge, gave succor, till he sailed with Phaecians who had trade with Sumeria
The Phaecian ships soon landed Odysseus on fair Ithacan shores where Penelope had travail,
But my dear laddies, I must hie hence, for the Dawn is nigh, of Penelope and Suitors, is another tale.
Concluded
When we say "Our Father" what do we mean?
How do we know what is unseen?
How can we tell, not seeing a face,
Are we sure that we're here by His Grace?
I thought about all this before I believed,
In my heart I knew God's grace I received.
So I say Our Father at the start of my prayer,
The grace I received tells me that He's there.
"Who art in heaven",In my prayer I say
His peace is mine when I feel dismay.
I know that I know that God lives in me,
I know he is He is also everywhere.
I rest in peace because I'm in His care.
In my prayer I say Who art in Heaven,
His peace is mine when my heart feels leaden.
He is living in me yet I can rest in His arms,
My name is forever written on His palms.
"Hallowed be Thy Name", I cry when I pray,
When I give up my thanks every day.
Glory to Him on that heavenly throne,
All honor is His for I am His own.
Hallowed is to be Holy, My God above.
So I cry Holy to The One that I love.
"Thy Kingdom come".
And dwell in me for all to see.
May Your light shine through me,
When I speak of Thee.
As I go about my life this day,
I pray that your light will guide my way.
The Kingdom is for me a quest,
Until I reach it I will not rest.
"Thy Will be done".
Jesus himself before His arrest had begun,
Prayed, Not mine but Thy Will be done.
I say now that as my spirit is weak,
It is Your Will and strength I seek.
As I go about my way in life,
I pray You keep me from all strife.
"On earth as it is in Heaven", we say,
Your Will be ours is how we must pray.
Try hard to be as pure as we can today,
By not spreading gossip along the way.
Helping our brother who may need a hand,
It doesn't take much to make life grand.
"Give us this day our daily bread",
This comes after the Glories have been said.
We are not at our best with nothing to eat,
Our body, mind & spiritual needs we must meet.
So as we arise with each dawn we must pray,
That God infills us with His manna in every way.
Man does not live on bread alone Jesus says,
The very word of God will feed us all our days.
"Forgive us our trespasses", we pray,
We are asking God to clear the way.
Remove the stumbling blocks in our life,
So we can journey without worldly strife.
To be released from this burden is why we ask,
It is how we can make our way an easier task.
© Dave Timperley 10 June 2017