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Best Famous God Poems

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

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by Godfrey Mutiso Gorry | |


 If you meet literature from Africa
Or even their mentors
In such works
You realize a trait of madness
Pumping into the throbbing poetics.
There is a knack in it that sparks alight The nearest shrubs; Intrigue and sensation incomparable.
The heart of African literature Pumping wordy blood into fragile young minds.
Rejuvenating the African word That merges into a whirlpool mixture Of creativity, and strengthen our verbosity.
Impregnated words Be borne from fertility the center.

by Godfrey Mutiso Gorry | |

This country nurtured hope...

 This country nurtured hope decayed,
The politician cruises on a 4WD guzzler,
The thief.
Feeling the base of his belly.
There is a slum in my heart But I cannot relocate it to my foot Nor hand nor back Its rusted tin makeshifts make my blood flow slow.
War has filled my heart with bullets, Steel and blood do not mix.
A bullet lodged in my head Is another brain of the dead.
Africa my home Africa my tomb.

by Godfrey Mutiso Gorry | |


 Unmasked –
The spirits' face is a black hole
Swallowing the celestial beauty
Of the stars.
Caged – The sentinel is crouched Subsumed in seething pain Not pain but anger of being guiltless Yet ‘guilty’ for being in jail.
The cell – No crime equals its greasy grey walls Thickly dark with no grills for light Till the eyes, sore, feel pain no more.
The sentinel – Was once a brother Used to sit by my feet But wandered away, Till err passed his way.
Who is to blame When the mind is aflight And discretion is abandoned For valor?

by Godfrey Mutiso Gorry | |


 Weak but alive
dying yet still alive
huge eyes
round like golf balls 
white as bones
Bony framed
Pus in orifices
teeth, white teeth
skull and bones.
Am sorry for life Oh this pain deeper than Only death can save My friend, I am sorry That you pain When you sleep, wake Pain, blindness Damn anguish – no thoughts emerge When engulfed by pain Such heart is dead Am sorry; Oh this life! A taboo You will die so Potstones thrown In the garden of death.
The nurse is no artist A greater artist has shown the nurse An art of degeneration A human form sculptured By an ailment of our time A thousand diseases in one.
And then these sufferings There will be no heaven here… Can’t eat – wounds in mouth Cant pee – balls on fire Weak and dizzy As thin as bones – is bones Skin and foul air Do not pity- There will be no heaven here A body ravaged beyond .
When looking for hell You will find it here.

by Godfrey Mutiso Gorry | |


 And then they pretend like owls
With marble eyes and wizened stupidity
I do not know why they cannot perceive
True art
But I will write
Until sand evaporates
And the moon consumes the sun
I will write
Even for the sake of art
For myself and for those who feel
Reading could lift them
Into other spheres of fancy
Where thoughts are much clearer
And deeds best described
As a vintage of the self
And society.

by Sidney Godolphin | |

Cloris it is not thy disdaine

 CLORIS, it is not thy disdaine 
 Can ever cover with dispaire 
 Or in cold ashes hide that care 
Which I have fedd with soe long paine, 
I may perhaps myne eyes refraine 5 
And fruiteless wordes noe more impart, 
But yet still serve, still serve thee in my hearte.
What though I spend my haplesse dayes In finding entertainements out, Carelesse of what I goe about, 10 Or seeke my peace in skillfull wayes Applying to my Eyes new rays Of Beauty, and another flame Unto my Heart, my heart is still the same.
Tis true that I could love noe face 15 Inhabited by cold disdayne, Taking delight in others paine.
Thy lookes are full of native grace; Since then by chance scorne there hath place, Tis to be hop't I may remove 20 This scorne one day, one day by Endless Love.

by Sidney Godolphin | |

Noe more unto my thoughts appeare

 NOE more unto my thoughts appeare, 
 Att least appeare lesse fayre, 
For crazy tempers justly feare 
 The goodnesse of the ayre; 

Whilst your pure Image hath a place 5 
 In my impurer Mynde, 
Your very shaddow is the glasse 
 Where my defects I finde.
Shall I not fly that brighter light Which makes my fyres looke pale, 10 And put that vertue out of sight Which makes myne none att all? No, no, your picture doeth impart Such valew I not wish The native worth to any heart 15 That 's unadorn'd with this.
Though poorer in desert I make My selfe whilst I admyre, The fuell which from hope I take I give to my desire.
20 If this flame lighted from your Eyes The subject doe calcine, A Heart may bee your sacrifice Too weake to bee your shrine.