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Introspection Angel Poems | Introspection Poems About Angel

These Introspection Angel poems are examples of Introspection poems about Angel. These are the best examples of Introspection Angel poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Tanka | |


LOVE God is always love Forever seek the kingdom; Praise the creator Keep giving what you can give Please endure until the end ANGELS Beautiful Heavens Protecting the meek ones earth Watching over us Helping us to cope with life Comforted with hope and trust MUSIC When you find rhythm You find your hearts inner core Celebrate the times Make them better than before Reminisce and dance all night

Copyright © humble b

Details | Free verse | |

Your Guardian Angel

Walk this road with me by your side; never will I lead you astray. Yes, it’s I who whispers to you, sometimes nudging you to change course. When you're headed in the wrong direction, I strive to offer input: “What if you put your life in God’s hands and let Him choose the path you take." I’m here in the afterlife, waiting to escort you through Heaven’s gate. Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to myself, so silently I attempt to guide you. When you were born, I was charged with your fate. Help me succeed, just as I strive to assist you. You may think of me as your conscience, your mentor, but I know Who sent me to make life’s journey with you. Sometimes you make my task difficult, yet just like you, I am no quitter. Try if you must to put me on the shelf when temptation is overpowering. You will fail in this effort; I won’t let you turn away from me. I’m the shadow you cannot see, your guardian angel, holding eternal life’s key.
* Written for Paula’s “Who Am I” contest.

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire

Details | Rhyme | |

Wings: My Favorite Things

Angel wings are not feathered but they are real,
Made from lighter stuff and stronger. 
They have a metaphysical feel,
And last an eternity longer.

The feel of an Angel wing is not a sensation like touch.
It’s on a higher more philosophical plane.
The usual senses are only a crutch,
Like trying to explain snow while in the rain.

To feel an angel wing flutter, 
One must “ know thyself ”,
And remove the “me” clutter,
To reveal the naked shelf.

You  know that fellow that always angers you,
And makes you retaliate every time?
Remember recently when he was through,
You smiled and didn’t even mind?

And how with your children, you pray to be patient,
And cry and blow up instead?
Then why today, when they tried your patience,
Those were tears of joy you shed?

These experiences and many others,
When asked for in earnest prayer,
Are simply Angel wing flutters,
Teaching us how to live and care.

These are the feel of Angel wings,
Not privy to the usual five,
But made of heavenly things,
Sublime, real, ..fully alive.

Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne

Details | Free verse | |

Internal Flora

blow your trumpet in my ear
so I may hear
the rise of lilies
Marching down my throat 

Naked ladies and daffodils
King proteas and petunias
Spinach, celery and rocket

For the venus fly-trap has lost her teeth
in semi-nation feasting --

My gut is a gaza-strip:
holier than seven maries
times eleven matzot, squared

Who would raise the dandelion and the khaki-bos, 
Who would shield the cornflower and the joseph's coat 
in semi-nation trepidation

My gut is a gaza-strip
My nerves: a dead sea . . .

But Gabriel,
blow your trumpet in my ear again
so I can see
the significance of shattering

14 August, 2014

Copyright © Christine Ueri

Details | Light Poetry | |

There is NO GOD

As I wake
Another day of nothing
Grey skies and daily rituals
A mugging here and there
Smog surrounds me, it eats me inside
Insects devour, life drains, ebbs, flows to death
Meaningless is life
Love simply prolongs ones agony
On a journey with no purpose
I assure you there is no God
Show me a deity with such cruelty
I dare you, for there is none
Life is a random act of death
To become us all
Do not try and tell me different
Intelligence is fates way to call us fools
For whatever we choose to believe

Mayans were ancients
Deceived by the sun and moon
They sacrificed their young
On the pyramids of doom

Today, the sun rose 
Tonight the moon shall greet my tired eyes
Into a slumber, a blissful sleep
I shall dream of the heavens and their gods

I held in my arms an angel
All of a year or so old
Her arms outstretched, in blind love
Knowing I would catch her dreams and breathe her smiles

The devil that I am
I could not resist
To feed to her all my happiness
Her little hands grasped, as her eyes flirted for more food

I have some words of wisdom to bestow upon all you mortals now
Any court jester who tells you there is no god
They have not met Maya
I am so blessed, that I have

Notes: I had this in the works as a completely different poem. That afternoon I took care
of Maya ( 18 months ) and her brother Timmy ( five ) Afterwards we went to a restaurant for a snack, and Maya in my arms was in heaven eating her onion rings !! Both Timmy and Maya are such little angels, that would brighten up anyone's days, and when you see how beautiful children are, you realize the deeper meanings of life! 

Copyright © arthur vaso

Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

Details | Rhyme | |

Angel Dust

The dewy morning’s pink dawn
When the doe with her new born fawn
Steps out of the glen
Dancing to the song of the wren
Then angel dust is seen

When the baby girl in her sweet sleep
Smiles with pretty dimples so deep
Fills tenderness in the mother’s eyes
As she wistfully looks at the skies
Then angel dust is seen

When the old lady around the corner
Warms her hands on the tin burner
And a passerby around her gently places
A warm shawl with soft laces
Then angel dust is seen

When life becomes hard and dark
There are no new songs from the lark
Trials and heartbreak knock at the door
And every day is a heavy chore
Then angel dust is seen

It whispers softly with the breeze
And settles on those weak and dry trees
Magic gently plays on the heart strings
A harbinger of gentle springs
Angel dust is seen

By- Tahera Mannan

Copyright © Tahera Mannan

Details | Rhyme | |

The Angel Star.

In the northern heavens her essence so vivid
My constant seraphic star
Basking within her gloriousness warming
Cleaves to me from distances far
Guiding my pathway on night lit Earth
Keeping my course right and true
Holding back storms until I reach my safe haven
To witness the next dawn rise anew
Those nights when cover clouds her features
Her radiance rushes in on the winds
Blessing my journey seeing me home safely
Forgiving my ways absolving my sins
Morning starts breaking and my cherub starts fading
Past the horizon waters falling so deep
Awaiting the rising of her mettle so tender
Of that maternal star light unique.

Copyright © Charles Fuller

Details | Couplet | |



    There is a spirit that watches over you
    In the daylight hours, and nightime too.

    You may not think that they are there
     But there is a way to make you aware.

     I learned the name of my angel a long time ago
     Because I was interested and I wanted to know.

     His name is "Maximus" and is with me here
     To learn of his presence once made me fear.

     Because what you do is watched all the day
     The angel keeps tabs, God finds out that way.

     I guess you think I'm being naive
     Trust your faith, if you believe.

     If you want to know your angel's name
     There is a way to find out which is no game.

     Say a prayer for three days in a row
     And after each time ask him to reveal his name to you.

     If you believe in him he will tell you true
     If not, he may be silent to you.

     I know of others who have tried this I can say
     Some, have learned the names of their angels this way.

     When you pray for their name do not think it absurd
     Some, I know, will hear that singular word.

     It won't come as a shout from heaven on high
     But rather as a whisper, when your angel is nigh.

     These spiritual beings are here for us all
     Sometimes they wait just to here us call.

     And when you do wouldn't if be grand
     If you knew the spirit's name...who behind you stands!

     Try it and see if you think I'm fooling around
     Be honest with yourself with both feet on the ground.

     As someday that spiritual angel you will greet
     Wouldn't it be nice to be on a "first name" basis when you meet?

     And if you try but do not hear their name
     Keep on trying because your conviction was lame.

     I know many will think I'm crazy with this
     But knowing my angel's name has brought comfort and bliss.

     So try it yourself and see if in kind
     If your angel will speak to you...they really don't mind.

     Because then a dialogue with them you can share,
     Even if they never speak again,  you'll know...they're there.

Copyright © Daniel Cwiak

Details | Free verse | |

This Guardian Angel

There is a looking glass in my head
That reflects images of a me,
That are me, yet not me;
An interpretation of me.
Each image taking on characteristics
That are me,
And creating an embodiment, a character,
That has the qualities of me,
In an identity of its own…

Reflection of a Romantic…

White charger, shining armour
Silver sports car, sunglasses
Damsel in distress
World order to protect
Serve, honour, protect
Others first
Caring, sharing
Night sky
Knight, spy
Hellenic character
Mythological champion
Medieval gallant
Twentieth century hero
Quick to rescue
Slow to take credit
Happiest giving
Uncomfortable receiving

This guardian angel

Reflection of a Teacher…

Hungry for knowledge
And new experiences
Desperate for harmony, fairness and peace
Needing to share
Encourage and care
Ready to show
How people can grow
Mentoring, nurturing, supporting success
Listening carefully
With true interest
Genuine happiness as others excel
Their success not just theirs
But mine as well
My reward is not money, recognition or praise
But making a difference
As we steer through this maze
The maze that is life
Can be lived in many ways
But if life is loved
And you fill all your days
With the joy of new experience, learning and fun
If you live with enthusiasm, as if life’s just begun
Then my task is done well

This guardian angel

Reflection of a Friend and Lover...

Ever supporting
Never judging
Dependable, honest, unselfish and yours
I’ll always be there
To trust and to care
What’s mine is yours
To enjoy and to share
I’ll inform you, challenge you
Excite you, and more
In tune with your needs
For fun and adventure
But also for peace, space
And comfortable silence
I’ll nurture and listen
With tact and discretion
Reassure and protect
With tireless energy
Always with passion
Fulfilling and giving
Sensual and tactile
Gentle and loving
I’ll make you feel special
With all of my charm
I will see that you’re safe
And help you feel calm
All of this
I do with such pleasure
With a kiss
And embrace from

This guardian angel

Copyright © Nigel Fawcett

Details | Couplet | |

Second Chance

When death came, I declared that I could not leave soon
For I had not seen the summer flowers in bloom

Starting them from just a seed back when there was still snow.. white
As they began maturing, I could tell each one on sight

Just large enough to be transplanted that spring day
The blooms were visible in thought only, in May

The angel came in early morn to take me by the hand
I bid him let me stay because my life was just sand

Now I have a new responsibility here
Down where the flowers bloom and to me are so dear

Life is not just about the house, washing the dishes clean
It's about love, our fellowman;  only a few I've seen

Thank you death angel for letting me stay that day
I'll give this life that I've got left the best day's pay

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

Details | Free verse | |

Angel In A Basket

I see my Angel in a basket
watching over Baby Jesus
no one saw my Christmas Basket
filled with peace, love and joy,
soft and sweet...
somewhere out there
in endless time
she sees my

Copyright © James Marshall Goff

Details | Blank verse | |


"Times Square was magnet to rejoicing
hearts, as mine was on that day the victors 
came. With roses, red, as were perhaps,
my cheeks, I vowed each bloom for
every home-come valiant there I'd see."

"I see her still despite the sixty years,
a taintless angel clutching there a bunch
of roses, red, as were her lips, a pair of
magnets that had drawn me close and
closer yet, and in a flash, the kiss."

"The kiss, a flash of light, and all from
senses blotted out, save for warm, tender
lips on mine, my body backward bent
in sweet surrender held by arms, the scent
of roses crushed between our breasts."

"Our breasts thus pressed, the roses in
between; how long did we remain thus
still in time? For but a span of breath
commingled, held? A moment's measure
of twined heartbeats kept in trance?"

"In swooning trance, then rudely snapped
out from by surging mass, rejoicing river
crowd, there wrenching him away, and me,
still stunned, forgetting there to hand him
but a single, breast-pressed rose."

"A single rose, if but to press to lips, or
in between the pages of a book held dear,
a keepsake from an angel kissed but with
no name to call in sleep-failed nights,
for failing there to even give my name."

"My name, I wish I had the sense there
but to whisper to his ear then yet so close.
Perhaps, it would have been the key 
to worlds away from lonely wards and
wakeful nights with just the sick with me."

"With me is but the memory of lips, their
warmth the years have deftly dimmed;
that kiss, a quick-eyed lens man stilled, now
wrought a lifelike replica of vanished time,
one budding love rose crushed by fickle fate."

Copyright © Miguel Mendoza

Details | Lyric | |

Lacerated Wings

They are bound to the Earth like trees
Suffocating under the weight of an icy grave 
Reaching to be free, but only their limbs are seen
Hoping that one day someone will see:
They can't escape with lacerated wings

The ocean surrounds me, covering everything
Nothing will be clearly seen; confusion overwhelming
No-one can save you, you're on your own, left to die
Manipulating every bleeding heart you can find
I can't escape with lacerated wings.

Swarms of nets, waves of screams 
Entangle: your captive illusions and dreams
The mask has be seared - The truth now they see
The Liar - Vampiric Fiend; lowly thief
And now they know you can't escape with Lacerated Wings

There's reasons for your rejections:
Your Heavy heart's transferred oppression
The scars are too deep to pass the trials
But you can find peace in your cage of empty spirals
You Cannot Escape With Lacerated Wings

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: V

Omniscient guy
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Epitaph | |

Mama Cried

Mama cried when Papa died,
he was killed by a drunk on the interstate;
but Mama stopped shedding tears,
for she had a daughter yet to raise.

Mama cried when Becky died,
she was killed by an abusive husband;
but Mama stopped shedding tears,
for she had a grandson yet to raise.

Mama cried when Bobby died,
he was killed by an IED in Afghanistan;
but Mama stopped shedding tears,
for she had her own life yet to live.

No one on earth cried when Mama died,
she was killed by a deranged drug addicted junkie
for the seventeen dollars and change she had in her purse;
but the angels cried in paradise when Mama died.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson

Details | Acrostic | |

Your Eyes

 (Dedicated to Folake)

Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.

Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.

May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.

Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.

Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.

Copyright © Onis Sampson

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Light Poetry | |


I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is 
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not  done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am 
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing 
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the 
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside 
 a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...

Written By: Christina A McCullouch 

Copyright © Christina McCullouch

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

A Homeless Man Named Sam -Part 4

Cont. from Part 3

Three months now, no trace of Sam has ever been found to this very day
 I think he was an angel from above, I don’t know what else to say
 I hope he’s at home in Heaven with God and his beautiful wife
 I believe he was sent to teach me a lesson and to share with me his life
If you see someone in need don’t just walk on by, please don’t treat them so unfair
 When you pass them- stop - give them a smile, send them a heartfelt prayer
 Try to help someone else, the best that you possibly can
 Always try to remember... this isn't where their homeless life began
I felt very privileged to have met this kind man
 But so saddened by his heartfelt story
 Was he an angel sent from God?
 I don't know, I only know I met a very, special man...
     a man named Sam
                                    ***Dedicated to Sam***

Copyright © anne p. murray

Details | Pastoral | |



To the Lord Almighty and as a colored Nun, I am a vestal of his governess and obedient to that form.
I walk in a sisterhood of solidarity.
I am a new religious order via The School of Social Theology.
I refuted poor mindedness for a rightful mind.
I vowed to conformity of Lord of high.
In my weakness, I do not falter domestically.
In my strength, I am subservient.
I will make a difference through my duties and tasks.
As a soul, I owe the Lord all Almighty that.
My essence is my spirit and wit.
I am satisfied with the life I live.

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | Acrostic | |

Who Am I

Who am I?
Question indeed!

  W-eaned from tender 
age,in noble family of ten.
  H-urt by the demise of 
the tube that brought 
me into this theater of 
struggles and pains.
  O-rdered about by the 
whimps of this 
world,facing the hurdles 
of life daily from 
cradle,never giving up 
  A-fine young man of 28 
I am,who has the 
experience and wisdom 
of the aged.
  M-astering the arts of 
life-learning from lessons 
of life's victims and 
didactic poems 'cos man 
of fame I intend to be for 
I bear the name Bob.

  I-lost my poetic gift at a 
stage but recovered it in 
poetrysoup for invisible 
entities say a 
lesser being I shall be,but 
another encourages me 
to move on,for great is 
one who comes out of 
the shackles of life 
undeterred for this is who 
I am.

Name: Ifeanyi Bob 

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
Hence... circumcision?

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Rhyme | |


I picked up a penny face-down,
But I don't believe in luck.
Everything happens for a reason;
God's mercy frees the stuck.
Redeem me, Heavenly Father;
Please, I know the wrong I've done.
Thank You for dying for me;
My sins You have overcome!

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin

Details | Narrative | |

Letter to taeljejohn

uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.

A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!

Juno what i mean? 

In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!

No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...

today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
 that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
   which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!

Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue! matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!

Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self 
 to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock

but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm 
 who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
 listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.

Thus => the following from one 

Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled 
Tension wound tightly 
Like an indestructible spring 
Without a healthy medium at large 
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow 
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among 
The obituaries!
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share

Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar 
   And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence 
   Buoys my heart while she doth ail

And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts, 
   Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott, 
   Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
   Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic 
   And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
   As a now beaming papa, whose daughters 
   Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest 
   For a counterpart to offer succor 
   To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013) 
   Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
   By thinking and rushing like a fool, 
   Where angels fear to tread
   Though "chutzpah" i got!

U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe 
   Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.

Copyright © matthew harris

Details | Ballad | |

My kiss from Heaven

My Kiss from Heaven

I used to have a Ouija board
I’d play with it for hours
I never really believed in it
I thought it had no power
It was just a novelty
To me, a piece of fun
Then once when I was playing it
Just before the day was done

All of the room went kind of still
And a silence touched my soul
It felt like angels were all around me
And my world felt kind of whole
My hand went whirring round that board
Like me, I could not stop it
I felt that I had no control
It disturbed me just a bit.

A message, well it seemed to come
It seemed to say to me
“Phone your father in the old country
And do it speedily”
So I did this, I phoned Mum up
She told me dad was sick
And If I wanted to see him alive
I’d have to get back quick.

Well I got back to see my dad
Then he died not too long after
I let him know how much I loved him
And we shared some tears and laughter
I ask, was this a kiss from Heaven?
It seems like this could be
All I know is I’m glad it happened
It changed my life for me.

11 September 2013 @ 1453hrs.
Peter Duggan.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Haiku | |

SK- 4

Silence has spoken
From the roaring of the tides
God is a river

Copyright © viviane leite

Details | I do not know? | |

Angel of mercy

There would be a day
When you will come
Take my arms into yours
You will say
No need to shed a drop more
This is the day that ends all dismay
You will say 
This time I’ve come to stay, forever
& will never go away

He closed his eyes
In pleasant surprise
Rested his head on her lap
As if to take a nap 
He knew for sure
In time, fate somehow shall make up
For this momentary gap

Who was she?
The only angel sought by his heart
The one & only
Who brought his soul the long awaited mercy

As he slept
She lowered her lips &
Kissed his forehead

Time went on as it always does
When they found him, he breathed his last

Some sighed, some cried
Some said in sorrowful tones
Some even felt relieved is subconscious moans

Least bothered was he,
Nothing could touch him
At last he was free
As he always wanted to be

Copyright © ashek rahaman

Details | Rhyme | |

A frog like me

When Fancy`s Fairy barefooted runs in the happy green, 
The blond bees dance near honey comb in New Jersey…
One Ocean distance to lie in daily gray and self mercy:
This butterfly lost the way of Brasil Carnival just seen

In virtual  3D in the last movie of the “generation mall”
At the European new poles beyond the old courtain.
The goldfish .jpg ,pdf , new prezi in chatrooms mentain
Virtual people looking for exotic food, forgot the call.

Beyond pictures.jpg, new projects.prezi kept in leptop,
Postmodern hermeneutics of love lost the compass
And compassion in this aquarium whose ocean may pass 
All in those proclaimed Mayas last days ,they will  stop.

Staying on the large yellow water lily, a frog like me
Is fascinated by the ocean of your eyes and their swords.
 I Goggle out at the little crumbs of bread and words
As thrown by the good visitors of the small lake free.
“Your bread is dry and dull: You are not good for Soup!”
I wanted to share the dinner with my noble neighbor:
A reddish tortoise stopped near my poetical harbor.
I know. I know I don`t live in Galapagos with your group.

Defiant white and red beets wait on the table` bands;
Horse radishes with invisible pricking javelin, vinegar,
Turkey, salad decorated with sweet basil, potatoes eager.
Family, Trinity, prayers, smiles, candles shaking hands.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa