Tarrying Poems | Examples

Comfort in the Afterglow

Comfort belies not upfront, where the bright glare blinds,
But in the glowing lingering embers of the afterglow.
In the afterburner of the karaoke sing-along song.
Humming the back-story concoction of memories
Translucent and phosphorescent.
Tarrying perchance, in a happenstance dance,
A wake, lingering long, along into the night
On the back-burner, dimmer set to simmer.

PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR CHEERING US WITH HIS GOODNESS

November 22 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Acts 27-28

Key Verse – Acts 27:25 Wherefore, sirs, be of good cheer: for I believe God, that it shall be even as it was told me.

PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR CHEERING US 
WITH HIS GOODNESS

Praise be to God for cheering us with His goodness despite: 
Oppositions opening ridicules
Opponents offering reproaches
Oppressions optimizing their restraints
Objections ostracizing us in their rebukes
Outcomes overwhelming us with reproofs

Acts 28:15 Praise be to the Lord for 
giving us courage so we can:
Achieve with commitment by His graciousness
Accept challenges through His goodness
Act along character of gratefulness
Avoid carnality that is grievous
Accomplish for Christ’s glory

Acts 28:38 Praise be to the Saviour for 
allowing us to preach His kingdom while: 
Trusting His timeliness
Teaching about His truth
Toiling midst tests and trials
Testifying along His trustworthiness
Treading upon His turf and tarrying in His temple. Amen!

November 22, 2024

in lilac dreams

"I love the silent hour of night,/ For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight / What may not bless my waking eyes." from first verse of Anne Brontë's "Night"

tarrying in lilac dreams
I flower in full sunlight
where I flirt with butterflies
and gleefully kiss tulips

when lilac dreams wilt away
I sojourn nearby a sea
caressed by its rippling tides
under a lavender sky

the twilight turns into night
bathing me in the splendor
of a full blue-white hued moon
and myriad stars’ sparkle

deep violet melts away
I drift again into dawn
wishing  that I could linger
ever in sweet lilac dreams

Harvest Time

In autumn, I came upon a garden of errant souls
And saw several souls sequestered there.
Some were well-known and some were fools,
But others were only tarrying there.
Though the sanguine souls were tall in bloom,
there were stunted souls among them.
I wondered why tall souls gave the short ones room;
And, in the end, accepted them.
Tears flowed from the stunted souls,
And I cried along with them,
Knowing their earthly sins had taken tolls.

I marveled at this hospice garden’s lack of strife,  
Considering each soul’s long and hurtful history
Of sins they committed during their earthly life
Before they were planted in this secluded purgatory.
Slowly, I removed my battle-worn defensive armor  
Once I realized this garden was a hallowed staging place
Wherein souls were healing deep wounds to their Karma.
As soon as healing started, souls grew tall to greet God’s grace.
And now, He was gathering the tallest ones in His arms
So that He could take them through His Pearly Gates.

See There Marches Orion

See there marches Orion
   With Sirius close at his feet
Tarrying not long in the air
   To begin the midnight hunt. 

His quickened breath congeals –
   His boots crunch the fallen snow –
His eyes attempt to discern
   Between tree and furtive shadow.

Mark the occasion and time
   Of this harvest moon's fair
And note the dog's primal talent
   For smelling blood and fear

Not to bring down a mighty elk
   To quarter and tan its hide – 
What they instead come upon
   Is Aries in a clearing field.

August

A much-anticipated August swoops in,
Unspooling a rather delightful surprise.
Gone; out of a blast furnace, torrid July!
Undulating gracefully in the soft breeze,
Snapdragons tarrying in a vast clearing.
Time to rejoice! Autumn is drawing nigh.

Celestial Kites

Moon so high, awake and beaming in white
Soft cloud smiles, watching the moonlight dancing
Behind the furs, hiding as crystal kite
Bounds in miles, prancing with stars so pleasing.
Winds so cold, peeking on wonders of light
Stars on hold, freezing with yonders of oak
Air so bold, giggling at blunders of might
Quasars unfold, circling defying-cloak.
Tarrying night lights over winds of song
Energies regained by lunar mission
Stellars  and Mother light spanning so long
Clouds under sheer lights, imploring fusion.
Fueling man's vision, entities horn
Power of illusion, beauties reborn.

I Wait For the Laughter

Where does laughter go
when it's done?
What becomes of joyful sounds
that are spun?

Do those waves fly off
and tarry somewhere,
to another dimension,
or just hang in midair?

Does that energy know
when there's someone in need?
Does it rush down to save them
at breakneck speed?

'I needed that laugh'
I will hear someone say
as their soul is replenished
to get through one more day

If such is the case,
and I could be wrong,
then it seems it's been tarrying
for far too long

The demand is so great
but the workers are few
and spread out so thin
it takes time to get through

As I scan the horizon
and search the skies
for something familiar
with tearful eyes

And a heart that is heavy
from all that I see
I wait for the laughter
to come back to me


© Mike Wise
3-20-23

Adapting

Peter and I are together and we’re in a grove.
Time is our treasure, precious and dwindling.

I watch for signs of the future unfolding, 
like a twitch that might be the first sign of a stroke.

Answers will come - slowly - or they’ll parachute in from nowhere.
We spend a lot of time together but most of it is spent studying.
We both have silences that shouldn’t be penetrated.

I have so many questions, but I keep them at a safe distance, 
so I don’t feel the need to interact with them.

All I know is we’re alive, and we still have to dance.
It's not always fun, operating in the face of uncertainty
but what else can we do - except go through the motions?

“When exactly did the world lose its collective mind?” I asked, reading the news on my iPad.

Peter looked up from the book he was highlighting with a phosphorescent pink pen.

“They’ve found toxic metals in CHOCOLATES. Everywhere.” I announced, like that Poe bird.

“I guess we’re canceling chocolate then,” he said, sarcastically, “we’ll adapt.”

“Yeah, you bet.” I said with genuine irony.

Beyond Reach

I jumped into the Cosmos
That was calling out my name
I saw a light within reach
A marvel that pulled my soul
To be that part of a whole
My flesh could never reach!
A brilliance so daunting
My heart travelled a distance
The light held my tarrying gaze
And in that very moments haze
It left me in a certain daze! 
I stumbled in my pace
Reaching out to catch
All my broken bits in space
My aura guided me into
The light that, I call my own! 

22.12.22

The Great Flood of 1342

There is a power the mightiest king can neither calm nor tether.
What power? you ask. The task I mean goes by the name of weather.
It was on Saint Mary Magdalene's Day in  1342,
on the twenty-second of July, a fact known but to few,
a raging fearful deluge descended from on high
like none since Noah's flood. In truth I do not lie.
It took away the rich man's house, it swept over hill and lea,
it blackened many a  verdant plain as far as eye could see.
Every  land in Christendom, from Wales to the tip of Spain
witnessed great loss of wealth and life, saw  sorrow and great pain.
'Repent, ye sinners! the prelate  preached. Pray God relieve this curse.'
In ignorance the people thought nothing could be worse.
but worse did come, not tarrying long, i whisper in low breath,
from Tartar land on the Black Sea shore. Alas, it was Black Death.

By One's Hand

Oh, Death where is your ring?
How many more moons will crown the vault of Heaven
Ere’ your folded, flesh-starved fingers
Surround bells that toll

Will you approach, hearing my cries
Rising from the depths of despair
Begging for you specter
Longing to taste your stale breath
Across my lips

Cruelly ignoring my last song
Tarrying within the darkness
Of wicked reverie and irrevocable return
A sneer scintillating deadly desires

Oh, Death lay bare how long
Ere’ the blade in my hand’s
Querulous path draws forth
Crimson streams freeing the scars of misery
Discharging the captor called Opium

Come, whisper caustic rhymes in my ear
Exhaling breath tainted 
With the stench of annihilation
Usher me into your bosom

Persuade my wavering hand
To carve away 
Etching an endless trail
Of miserly shame

Doing what the gods denied

Doing...
What I have been unable to do

Weak Spots Xiii

Centered around ephemeral shapes, 
Now—shapeless now—flailing—
Yellows, blues, oranges and reds,
Heat eating what surrounds it till it Can no more—eyes—in the fire. . .

The way life moves toward danger, 
And eyes watch closely,
Growing and slackening,
Distant singing and laughter. . .

The fires that hear stories of the ancient ways, 
Tarrying through the tales,
The coldness of the wild behind their backs,
Smoke reaching toward starlit wonderlands. . .

I hear resilience in the horror—
And in the unison of kinship,
Bodies moving closer to one another,
As the eyes at last close against the coals 


2.13.20

Note: I wanted to play with a little fire today. 

I wanted to write "Smoke reaching toward starlit wonderlands" but didn't feel I had room... however, I wanted to make it clear that the smoke hasn't made it there to that starlit wonderland...just like we reach toward the stars but don't quite get there sometimes. I hope that makes an ounce of sense, and I don't know why that makes me emotional and that it's so important to me, but I felt the need to share...

Anyway, sending love to all and extra warmth today, wherever you may be.
 
Love, Laura

Christmas Neighbor

I passed my Christmas neighbor walking
tarrying to all
And nodded fast for certainty
that he'd be reached for all

That when we went to go our way
we'd always have our love
When everywhere we went that day
was not for push and shove

Abandon

I remember so vividly, ...
a breathtaking lush verdure only you
and I knew; our no man's land. Our fairytale 
may have ended but the memories
we created there linger on!

We walked arm-in-arm
amid tufts of grass and tarrying dandelions;
unconscious of time. We felt comfortably
at home there, a most welcome respite from  
all the madness of the day!

I remember how young we felt
running through the wide-open plains
chasing butterflies. Good times did roll!
We were like children lost in paracosm.
Who knows how our haven looks now?

Oh, how we used to seize precious moments
dancing under the midday sun; It couldn't be
more liberating! I wish I could relieve
the experiences with you once again!
I miss them like drought misses rainfall!


Thesaurus - Abandon or Abandoned Poetry Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by A Dear Heart
Date Written: 06/14/2020

• Short Tarrying Poems
• Famous Tarrying Poems
• Best Tarrying Poems
• Read Tarrying Poems
• Long Tarrying Poems
• Tarrying Quotes