Get Your Premium Membership

White Sunday of Pentecosta

they are born again age of grace descends like burning tongues /feast of the weaks /white sunday harvest of the fiery spirit/ third hour of the day tongues born baptised by fire/ in the sacred room they drink his blood the new covenant and eat his body as bread they are waiting for the rapture before the judgement and the kingdom for a mi- llenium /we hide under the black table of lov

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things