Most Liked Religion / Spirituality Poems (1,340)

So pale
Devistation washes as water
Over flesh

The instinct
Is to turn away
And escape the impressions

At best
The only illusion
Is fate

Does she not understand
The space the world has provided
Distinctly she curls up her hands
Gives wings to dark horizens

I am
Irrepressively changed
As I watch her
And am secretly ashamed

There
In the caverns of my thoughtlessness
I am made aware

So fragile
She shatters like china
Tossed upon sand

The moments are
racked with contusions
Retreat is impossible

At best
This is not much better
Than death

Does she see the confusion
With grim eyes like heartbeats in grey
As she stands in her doorway
Speaking with images and clay

I am
Unbelievably horrified
As she loses her mind
I see myself in her eyes

And we fall
The darkness of senselessness
As a mirage

Shake it off
But we cannot breathe emptiness
Like it or not

She is there
Inside this existance
Like me

Inexorably petrified
Pretending to reason
She needs faith to believe

Just like me...

Prod me with your loving hands,
Stir me from my deep impasse,
I long to flee this stagnant rut;
My soul, my prison, deadened lot,
Which end is just to taste Your wrath;
So let me on the narrow path,
Thorns and thistles may line this road
But it leads me to the mutual abode.
Lift me up with Your mighty hand
Above this frenzied earthly land.
Set me on the mount to see
What the world can offer me;
Till i see the vanity from on high
And earthly desires I bid goodbye
And set my eyes on you.

The Music Of Poetry

Amid life’s social melodies
from criterion deep and high
beat internal rhythmic memories
of breath’s first living sigh.

Within youth’s mental progress
lie stagnant childhood needs
in an age unwilling to confess
that the child inside bleeds.

And so a life’s beliefs converge
with those of its favoured peers
until an adult clone can emerge
to hide naïve young fears.

The secret act is blindly done
bias turns to something more
until bigotry has deftly won
leaving thought no options to explore.

Musical tastes are not immune
yet, within classical themes lie
a favourite hard rock tune
that opens a memory’s eye.

Still the soul cannot sing
until the child inside can portray
that thoughts in depth to poetry cling
and in the music a free child can play!

sonofadam

Out Of Body Experience

Breathlessness comes to me in the night
in darkness, like a vampire bat, silently.
Yet, I feel no panic or despairing fright
in my body with half closed eyes misty.
Unmoving bones, I do nothing, yet think
I see the answer to our constant dream,
joyous blackness whose colour I drink,
moving towards that transitional gleam.
At peace I move through time and space
yet, so suddenly, so quickly, so deliberate,
I draw ever nearer to that other place
that other time, truth, that other state!
My soul goes alone into a cosmic gravel,
will my life’s cord leave me as forsaken?
As I speed outward on my astral travel
a voice says “Return!” I return, I awaken!

sonofadam

The Silence Of Man

The silence of man has no voice to trace
yet sounds the same from place to place,
the deadly silence between battles linger
awaiting cruel fate’s long whining finger,
pleasant silence in a lonely man’s room
lingers the same in his deathbed tomb!

Within the silence of time’s long voice
hushed in peace with no other choice
uninterrupted silence of prayers in hope
for a foothold on heaven’s slippery slope,
each man departs where he long has trod
commending his soul silently to his God!

sonofadam

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

After The Ceasefire

Can a true Christian stay the hand of justice
and condemn the need for vengeance?
When mistakenly in God’s name people die
and families call “An eye for an eye!”

While survivors fight off each assassin
and Christians preach faith within,
Could a preacher and a vengeful father
identify the evil and come together?

To fight the hidden men who follow the devil
that fed the third Reich leader’s evil!
A task which modern politics cannot convey
and no dimension of words can portray!

After the end of those evil men, though not all
after Westminster’s long cease fire call,
Scavengers slyly appear wearing virulent faces
the devils in Ireland’s “Master Races!”

Then when a law’s long armed sentence justly falls
and stills grief stricken families vengeful calls,
A government’s leaders backward roll and bow
for an untrustworthy double cease fire vow!

Today no true Celtic justice can ever be redeemed
in what London politicians smugly dreamed,
Blind to the horned animals hidden in lambs fleece
now leering murderers are given early release!

Has justice gone when an assassin walks the street
and there the victim’s suffering family meet,
Can that family’s hopes and heads remain high
as a condemned killer freely saunters by?

Yet again, from Omagh’s rubble of senseless death
comes new life, giving hope fresh breath!
Mankind holds Spring’s birth in annual reverence
so a child is born, with no religious preference!

sonofadam

Two sides of the coin

Must look forward not look back?
But from the past I can learn
Run so fast to lead the pack
Take my time wait my turn
Be ruthless and stash the money that I can stack
Take the time to smell the rose and see the fern
Grab the toys that others lack
To seek the love that I yearn
Any in front I will attack
When I die I won’t burn

Jeff 09

true love is the heart true love is the soul as true love is loyal for you go against true love it turns into a coil you'll just be bouncing around having no happiness always with a frown it'll be hard to get that love back never give up and throwit in the sack find it in your heart and soul you'll get it all back like that

Compulsion

If a person is not engrossed by poetry and has not written
they cannot comprehend those of us who are so smitten.
Who, in compulsion, regardless of season or time of day
must write in our peculiar style, to say what we must say.
They cannot understand that all poets are second sighted
that in daylight or darkness perception spawns, uninvited.
From sobering thoughts left from the wine the day before
come devils and demons to create a new epoch in folklore.
How in far off ancient times from a simple lead pencil stem
came magical words of the possessed souls who wrote them!

Now, with modern time’s new fangled electronic contraption
enveloping my head, I compose aloud feeding my compulsion.
What fame might come my way is bestowed in my provenance
where my secret soul’s creations are endowed by providence.
If destiny were to befriend me and publish my humble name
today, lest the reaper comes, to present a new bard to fame.
It will be with a heartfelt pride that this poetic bosom swells
then, I vow, I will give my best until each word I write excels.
But if that fame sidesteps my work and I am dead tomorrow
I bequeath my simple words with my infamy, and my sorrow!

Ken.F. Adamson