Most Commented Religion / Spirituality Poems (1,340)

I sit here on this beautiful fall day
I watch as the light dances through the trees

Leaves are every where on the ground
And the ones in the trees are turning brown

The air is cool and crisp as the sun's going down
The feel of fall is ever so near

I see a little squirrel hurring for every nut
As darkness approaches toward the night

It's another fall night so perfect and clear
You know that the Holidays are almost here

The smell of pumpkin bread is in the air
I think the smell of cinnamon is also there

As the year is coming to and end
It's time to put it in high gear

I thank you once again God
for such a beautiful and perfect year

Belinda Clark
Nov, 2010

If you would find an answer
to what's been troubling you
Would you shout it from the rooftops
And rejoice to find it's true?

If life hand's you sorrows
You really cannot bear
If you lose the ones you love
Or if no one seems to care

Will your heart continue hoping
That love will bless your day
That hope will not be hopeless
That love will find a way?

When no one understands
and you feel all alone
Will you put your hand in God's
Will you believe you are His own?

Even in all your struggles
What could they all be for!
Can you "see" a shining light
Upon a shining shore

A dream that seems to call you
A day you know will dawn
A day when joy surrounds you
Your struggles all are gone

As you melt into the arms
Of the One who calls your Name
Love meets love, and glorious Light
Shines rainbows from the rain.

When times are bad and grief is high, what makes us fall.
Friends begin to stray away,what makes us fall.
Fill our car with gas or give our children food, what makes us fall.
The weak becomes the devil's bait, what makes us fall.
Family's homes are lost to debt, what makes us fall
The quest for happiness seems a waste, what makes us fall.
Vacations become a thing of the past, what makes us fall.
Love becomes so hard to hold, what makes us fall
U.S. goods become extinct, what makes us fall
The greed of of others tighten the rope, what makes us fall.
Losing faith in God above, That's what makes us fall

A touch of Venetian red
next to cobalt blue
beside a bold stroke
of chartreuse green
with burnt sienna
rounding out the scene -
a moment of moments.
The artist’s vision
captured in time and space
by watercolors,
holders of truth.
Every stroke
defining the artist,
transforming the future.
Not one can be taken back,
once applied.
Absorbed,
it blends itself
into the present
of shadows and light.
It is neutral and pure
this moment
and, it lasts forever.

I was dust before God.
I became a comet, a planet, a star…
A tree, a bird, a human observer finding questions

I’ll return in the dark and cold
To that place where I was start,
A travelled dust, enriched with wisdom and emotions.

Hands too weak to fan horsefly
that feast in open mouths.
Skin hugs closely to dry bones.
Their breaths are traces of death.
Lips are shriveled and cracked,
as the parched Gadabeji.
Tears suck soft gaze dry,
but silently they cry.

Eyes watch on plasma screen
while gulping down American dream.
Winds echo their plight – east, west, north, and south.
Tiny angels,
with innocent eyes,
stare through all our excuses and lies.
We pretend in God we trust
while we watch his angels die.

In changing seasons that old voice came,
as we play that humdrum Christian game,
pounding on ethics door by door,
saying – “Feed my angels and they will soar.”
Let them mount ten thousand skies;
give them wings that flutter when they fly.

The Cross i stood before you
Would my eyes well in sadness
As you keep love in your eyes
While offering the world sacrificial truth.

A humble man of means
Heart to the people
From all walks in life.

Stead fast to educate right versus wrong
A prostitute to marry accepting her past.

If upon the Cross i stood before you
Would you teach me pure life
To settle my ways.

Growing up with not a faintest idea of whom you were
While the many filled with wrong held you in contempt.

Rocks been rolled
Thinking your fate is now sealed
A stalemate for now as the hours pass by.

Resurection arrives, at the final hour
Hands and feet healed
Now much work to be done.

El Shaddai Almighty Saviour
You fill our hearts
We prostrate ourselves before You and adore You


El Shaddai You move between Us
With Your Sweet Presence that melts our hearts
Reign over Us

El Shaddai Your Throne
Oh, my God is FOR ALL ETERNITY.

Being a Catholic
is more than looking the other way
when Father Jim is fondling his alter boys
Being a Catholic is more than giving your money
so the bishops can live in luxery and travel all the time
Being a Catholic is more than sitting in church
bored out of your mind and eating and drinking Jesus
like some cannibal like Jeffery Dahmer
Being Catholic is about traditions
evern if those traditions don't seem like
they do anything for anyone
Being Catholic is about forgiving the companies their greed
of paying workers under ten bucks an hour
so God can forgive you of your sin
of hoping the managers and owners get cancer
or burn in hell
or have a really bad life
Being a Catholic is about keeping the Pope rich
and the flock desperately poor and needy
Being Catholic is about loving your babies
enough to have every one
even if that means canceling your cable
so you can feed them ramen noodles
Being Catholic is all about love of your God
Jesus, and your worst enemies
Being Catholic is about knowing God loves you
but only will let you be forgiven
if and only if a prist hears your confessions
Amen

God over us
like hard rock covering land mollusks,
shielding them
from tropic sun
(like hell raging on Gomorrah)
and velvety ocean breeze
carrying salt to season coconut water.
Zebra type, like a leopard’s stubborn spots,
Shun the selfless offering
for the small of a hard back;
the product is beheld on hot concrete.

If we as March hares, fast,
hippity hop
in green pastures
his Spirit pulled from a top hat,
but when rain clouds change complexion
screening the eye of sun,
we set off along crooked burrows
to escape morning shower.
At home we are mostly wet.

Joseph in colored coat;
his reading of Pharaoh’s memory
is for his days
(the vision still stands).
Meager bulls swigging loaded cows
and Lot galloping hard
with back against Sodom.
How damaged are we
when children bear no children?