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Best Famous Forgiveness Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Forgiveness poems. This is a select list of the best famous Forgiveness poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Forgiveness poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of forgiveness poems.

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See also: Best Member Poems

Famous poems below this ad
by Gary Fincke | |

The Magpie Evening: A Prayer

           When magpies die, each of the living swoops down 
           and pecks, one by one, in an accepted order.
He coaxed my car to start, the boy who’s killed himself.
He twisted a cable, performed CPR on The carburetor while my three children shivered Through the unanswerable questions about stalled.
He chose shotgun, full in the face, so no one stepped Into the cold, blowing on his hands, to fix him.
Let him rest now, the minister says.
Let this be, Repeating himself to four brothers, five sisters, All of them my neighbors until they grew and left.
Let us pray.
Let us manage what we need to say.
Let this house with its three hand-made additions be Large enough for the one day of necessity.
Let evening empty each room to ceremony Chosen by the remaining nine.
Let the awful, Forecasted weather hold off in east Ohio Until each of them, oldest to youngest, has passed.
Let their thirty-seven children scatter into The squabbling of the everyday, and let them break This creeping chain of cars into the fanning out Toward anger and selfishness and the need to eat At any of the thousand tables they will pass.
Let them wait.
Let them correctly choose the right turn Or the left, this entrance ramp, that exit, the last Confusing fork before the familiar driveway Three hundred miles and more from these bleak thunderheads.
Let them regather into the chairs exactly Matched to their numbers, blessing the bountiful or The meager with voices that soar toward renewal.
Let them have mercy on themselves.
Let my children, Grown now, be repairing my faults with forgiveness.
© Gary Fincke


by Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings | |

a total stranger one black day

a total stranger one black day
knocked living the hell out of me-- 

who found forgiveness hard because
my(as it happened)self he was 

-but now that fiend and i are such


by The Bible | |

MAN’S SINFULNESS AND NEED OF REPENTANCE AND FORGIVENESS

“Do not enter into judgment with your servant;
For before you no one alive can be righteous.
”—Ps.
143:2.
“O Jehovah, do not in your indignation reprove me, Nor in your rage correct me.
For your own arrows have sunk themselves deep into me, And upon me your hand is come down.
There is no sound spot in my flesh because of your denunciation.
There is no peace in my bones on account of my sin.
For my own errors have passed over my head; Like a heavy load they are too heavy for me.
My wounds have become stinky, they have festered, Because of my foolishness.
I have become disconcerted, I have bowed low to an extreme degree; All day long I have walked about sad.
”—Ps.
38:1-6.
“Look! With error I was brought forth with birth pains, And in sin my mother conceived me.
” “May you purify me from sin with hyssop, that I may be clean; May you wash me, that I may become whiter even than snow.
” “Conceal your face from my sins, And wipe out even all my errors.
”—Ps.
51:5, 7, 9.
“Happy is the one whose revolt is pardoned, whose sin is covered.
Happy is the man to whose account Jehovah does not put error, And in whose spirit there is no deceit.
.
 .
 .
My sin I finally confessed to you, and my error I did not cover.
I said: ‘I shall make confession over my transgressions to Jehovah.
’ And you yourself pardoned the error of my sins.
”—Ps.
32:1-5.


More great poems below...

by The Bible | |

Gods Mercy

“As a father shows mercy to his sons,
Jehovah has shown mercy to those fearing him.
For he himself well knows the formation of us, Remembering that we are dust.
”—Ps.
103:13, 14.
“If errors were what you watch, O Jah, O Jehovah, who could stand? For there is the true forgiveness with you, In order that you may be feared.
I have hoped, O Jehovah, my soul has hoped, And for his word I have waited.
”—Ps.
130:3-5.


by The Bible | |

Psalm 103: 1-5

Bless the Lord, O my soul
And all that is within me
Forgetting not His benefits
Nor forgiveness of iniquity
Bless Him, who brings healing
And redemption to our lives
Crowning us with loving kindness
And with blessings, satisfies.

Scripture Poem © Copyright Of M.
S.
Lowndes


by The Bible | |

Proverbs 28:13

If we keep hiding away our sin
And cover our transgressions up
And we do not come to a place of confession
To allow the light of His love
To reveal to us where we're in need
Of forgiveness from the Lord
Then we will not prosper in our ways
Or know His mercy at all
But when we confess all of our sins
Forsaking what is not right,
We will surely obtain God's mercy
And walk in it all our lives.

Scripture Poem © Copyright Of M.
S.
Lowndes


by Ehsan Sehgal | |

Sea of love

You have reached a heart that is sea of love, in which you can see and find wisdom, beauty of conversation, politeness, forgiveness, spirituality, respect, harmony and through all that the way of soul where you deserve to be loved.
Ehsan Sehgal


by Ehsan Sehgal | |

Beautiful expression

"A beautiful expression of true love is respect, honour, politeness and forgiveness.
" Ehsan Sehgal


by Ehsan Sehgal | |

Inside powers

"The most dangerous two enemies of yourself and for others reside inside you, one is "hate " and other is "anger", that are always in front line, keeping you in fight.
The majority of the globe is ruled by that inside powers, but Almighty God has also gifted you two defense weapons, that are "love" and "tolerant with forgiveness".
Ehsan Sehgal


by Margaret Atwood | |

The Rest

 The rest of us watch from beyond the fence
as the woman moves with her jagged stride
into her pain as if into a slow race.
We see her body in motion but hear no sounds, or we hear sounds but no language; or we know it is not a language we know yet.
We can see her clearly but for her it is running in black smoke.
The cluster of cells in her swelling like porridge boiling, and bursting, like grapes, we think.
Or we think of explosions in mud; but we know nothing.
All around us the trees and the grasses light up with forgiveness, so green and at this time of the year healthy.
We would like to call something out to her.
Some form of cheering.
There is pain but no arrival at anything.


by W S Merwin | |

For A Coming Extinction

 Gray whale
Now that we are sinding you to The End
That great god
Tell him
That we who follow you invented forgiveness
And forgive nothing

I write as though you could understand
And I could say it
One must always pretend something
Among the dying
When you have left the seas nodding on their stalks
Empty of you
Tell him that we were made
On another day

The bewilderment will diminish like an echo
Winding along your inner mountains
Unheard by us
And find its way out
Leaving behind it the future
Dead
And ours

When you will not see again
The whale calves trying the light
Consider what you will find in the black garden
And its court
The sea cows the Great Auks the gorillas
The irreplaceable hosts ranged countless
And fore-ordaining as stars
Our sacrifices
Join your work to theirs
Tell him
That it is we who are important


by A S J Tessimond | |

The Children Look At The Parents

 We being so hidden from those who
Have quietly borne and fed us,
How can we answer civilly
Their innocent invitations?

How can we say "we see you
As but-for-God's-grace-ourselves, as
Our caricatures (we yours), with
Time's telescope between us"?

How can we say "you presumed on
The accident of kinship,
Assumed our friendship coatlike,
Not as a badge one fights for"?

How say "and you remembered
The sins of our outlived selves and
Your own forgiveness, buried
The hatchet to slow music;

Shared money but not your secrets;
Will leave as your final legacy
A box double-locked by the spider
Packed with your unsolved problems"?

How say all this without capitals,
Italics, anger or pathos,
To those who have seen from the womb come
Enemies? How not say it?


by Alec Derwent (A D) Hope | |

Easter Hymn

 Make no mistake; there will be no forgiveness; 
No voice can harm you and no hand will save; 
Fenced by the magic of deliberate darkness 
You walk on the sharp edges of the wave; 

Trouble with soul again the putrefaction 
Where Lazarus three days rotten lies content.
Your human tears will be the seed of faction Murder the sequel to your sacrament.
The City of God is built like other cities: Judas negotiates the loans you float; You will meet Caiaphas upon committees; You will be glad of Pilate's casting vote.
Your truest lovers still the foolish virgins, Your heart will sicken at the marriage feasts Knowing they watch you from the darkened gardens Being polite to your official guests.


by Mark Strand | |

Courtship

 There is a girl you like so you tell her
your penis is big, but that you cannot get yourself
to use it.
Its demands are ridiculous, you say, even self-defeating, but to be honored, somehow, briefly, inconspicuously in the dark.
When she closes her eyes in horror, you take it all back.
You tell her you're almost a girl yourself and can understand why she is shocked.
When she is about to walk away, you tell her you have no penis, that you don't know what got into you.
You get on your knees.
She suddenly bends down to kiss your shoulder and you know you're on the right track.
You tell her you want to bear children and that is why you seem confused.
You wrinkle your brow and curse the day you were born.
She tries to calm you, but you lose control.
You reach for her panties and beg forgiveness as you do.
She squirms and you howl like a wolf.
Your craving seems monumental.
You know you will have her.
Taken by storm, she is the girl you will marry.


by Robert William Service | |

The Trust

 Because I've eighty years and odd,
 And darkling is my day,
I now prepare to meet my God,
 And for forgiveness pray.
Not for salvation is my plea, Nor Heaven hope,--just rest: Begging: "Dear Father, pardon me, I did not do my best.
"I did not measure with the Just To serve my fellow men; But unto levity and lust I loaned my precious pen.
I sorrow for the sacred touch, And though I toiled with zest, Dear God, have mercy, in-as-much I did not do my best.
"I bless You for the gift you gave That brought me golden joy; Yet here beside the gentle grave I grieve for its employ.
Have pity, Lord,--so well I know I failed you in the test, And my last thought is one of woe: I did not do my best.
"


by Katharine Tynan | |

Of St. Francis and the Ass

 Our father, ere he went 
Out with his brother, Death, 
Smiling and well-content 
As a bridegroom goeth, 
Sweetly forgiveness prayed 
From man or beast whom he 
Had ever injured
Or burdened needlessly.
'Verily,' then said he, 'I crave before I pass Forgiveness full and free Of my little brother, the ass.
Many a time and oft, When winds and ways were hot, He hath borne me cool and soft And service grudged me not.
'And once did it betide There was, unseen of me, A gall upon his side That suffered grievously.
And once his manger was Empty and bare, and brown.
(Praise God for sweet, dry grass That Bethlehem folk shook down! ) 'Consider, brethren,' said he, 'Our little brother; how mild, How patient, he will be, Though men are fierce and wild.
His coat is gray and fine, His eyes are kind with love; This little brother of mine Is gentle as the dove.
'Consider how such an one Beheld our Saviour born, And carried him, full-grown, Through Eastern streets one morn.
For this the Cross is laid Upon him for a sign.
Greatly is honourèd This little brother of mine.
' And even while he spake, Down in his stable stall His little ass 'gan shake And turned its face to the wall.
Down fell the heavy tear; Its gaze so mournful was, Fra Leo, standing near, Pitied the little ass.
That night our father died, All night the kine did low: The ass went heavy-eyed, With patient tears and slow.
The very birds on wings Made mournful cries in the air.
Amen! all living things Our father's brethern were.


by Derek Walcott | |

Dark August

 So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky
of this black August.
My sister, the sun, broods in her yellow room and won't come out.
Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume like a kettle, rivers overrun; still, she will not rise and turn off the rain.
She is in her room, fondling old things, my poems, turning her album.
Even if thunder falls like a crash of plates from the sky, she does not come out.
Don't you know I love you but am hopeless at fixing the rain ? But I am learning slowly to love the dark days, the steaming hills, the air with gossiping mosquitoes, and to sip the medicine of bitterness, so that when you emerge, my sister, parting the beads of the rain, with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness, all with not be as it was, but it will be true (you see they will not let me love as I want), because, my sister, then I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones, The black rain, the white hills, when once I loved only my happiness and you.


by Isaac Watts | |

Psalm 32

 Forgiveness of sins upon confession.
O Blessed souls are they Whose sins are covered o'er! Divinely blest, to whom the Lord Imputes their guilt no more.
They mourn their follies past, And keep their hearts with care; Their lips and lives, without deceit, Shall prove their faith sincere.
While I concealed my guilt, I felt the fest'ring wound; Till I confessed my sins to thee, And ready pardon found.
Let sinners learn to pray, Let saints keep near the throne; Our help, in times of deep distress, Is found in God alone.


by Edgar Lee Masters | |

Anne Rutledge

 Out of me unworthy and unknown 
The vibrations of deathless music; 
'With malice toward none, with charity for all.
' Out of me the forgiveness of millions toward millions, And the beneficient face of a nation Shining with justice and truth.
I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds, Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln, Wedded to him, not through union, But through separation.
Bloom forever, O Republic, From the dust of my bosom!


by Edgar Lee Masters | |

Johnnie Sayre

 Father, thou canst never know
The anguish that smote my heart
For my disobedience, the moment I felt
The remorseless wheel of the engine
Sink into the crying flesh of my leg.
As they carried me to the home of widow Morris I could see the school-house in the valley To which I played truant to steal rides upon the trains.
I prayed to live until I could ask your forgiveness -- And then your tears, your broken words of comfort! From the solace of that hour I have gained infinite happiness.
Thou wert wise to chisel for me: "Taken from the evil to come.
"


by Robert Louis Stevenson | |

Lo Now My Guest

 LO, now, my guest, if aught amiss were said,
Forgive it and dismiss it from your head.
For me, for you, for all, to close the date, Pass now the ev'ning sponge across the slate; And to that spirit of forgiveness keep Which is the parent and the child of sleep.


by George William Russell | |

Forgiveness

 My heart was heavy, for its trust had been 
Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong; 
So, turning gloomily from my fellow-men, 
One summer Sabbath day I strolled among 
The green mounds of the village burial-place; 
Where, pondering how all human love and hate 
Find one sad level; and how, soon or late, 
Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face, 
And cold hands folded over a still heart, 
Pass the green threshold of our common grave, 
Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart, 
Awed for myself, and pitying my race, 
Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave, 
Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave!


by George William Russell | |

Forgiveness

 AT dusk the window panes grew grey;
The wet world vanished in the gloom;
The dim and silver end of day
Scarce glimmered through the little room.
And all my sins were told; I said Such things to her who knew not sin— The sharp ache throbbing in my head, The fever running high within.
I touched with pain her purity; Sin’s darker sense I could not bring: My soul was black as night to me; To her I was a wounded thing.
I needed love no words could say; She drew me softly nigh her chair, My head upon her knees to lay, With cool hands that caressed my hair.
She sat with hands as if to bless, And looked with grave, ethereal eyes; Ensouled by ancient Quietness, A gentle priestess of the Wise.


by Michael Lally | |

Forbidden Fruit

 all the forbidden fruit I ever
dreamt of--or was taught to
resist and fear--ripens and
blossoms under the palms of my
hands as they uncover and explore
you--and in the most secret
corners of my heart as it discovers
and adores you--the forbidden fruit
of forgiveness--the forbidden fruit
of finally feeling the happiness
you were afraid you didn't deserve--
the forbidden fruit of my life's labor
--the just payment I have avoided
since my father taught me how--
the forbidden fruit of the secret
language of our survivors' souls as
they unfold each others secret
ballots--the ones where we voted
for our first secret desires to come
true--there's so much more
I want to say to you--but for
the first time in my life I'm at
a loss for words--because
(I understand at last)
I don't need them
to be heard by you.


by Howard Nemerov | |

Insomnia I

 Some nights it's bound to be your best way out,
When nightmare is the short end of the stick,
When sleep is a part of town where it's not safe
To walk at night, when waking is the only way
You have of distancing your wretched dead,
A growing crowd, and escaping out of their
Time into yours for another little while;

Then pass ghostly, a planet in the house
Never observed, among the sleeping rooms
Where children dream themselves, and thence go down
Into the empty domain where daylight reigned;
Reward yourself with drink and a book to read,
A mystery, for its elusive gift
Of reassurance against the hour of death.
Order your heart about: Stop doing that! And get the world to be secular again.
Then, when you know who done it, turn out the light, And quietly in darkness, in moonlight, or snowlight Reflective, listen to the whistling earth In its backspin trajectory around the sun That makes the planets sometimes retrograde And brings the cold forgiveness of the dawn Whose light extinguishes all stars but one.