Submit a Poem
Get Your Premium Membership
spacer

Heaven Narrative Poems | Narrative Poems About Heaven

These Heaven Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Heaven. These are the best examples of Heaven Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

1234
Details | Narrative |

Birth, in a Quiet Room

“Well,” She asked; her eyes wide. Beads of hot sweat glistening on her brow like miniature 
crystal suns. Her angst was palpable. “What is it!”
     The air was still. There were no words. Just the sound of bodies breathing in – and 
holding.
     “Congratulations.” He held out his arms, handing the mother, her baby, “You have a son.”
     The moment shone like glass in the center of the heavens – pure and eternal.
     It was redemption from every wrong thing she’d ever done. 
     It was the shining eyes of God smiling onto her exhausted face; lighting it with hope.    
     It was the only place there was – the only time, the only space. 
     It was the only feeling that existed. 
     They were the only two incarnate souls in the room; on the planet, and in the universe.
     This was her child –
     her son.
     And she was his mother.

     (there are no words for such things. suddenly, I feel like an intruder. there are too many 
eyes, words and moments here. so it is here, I take my leave; leaving this mother and the 
only soul in her universe to their perfect moment. they will have many more moments in this 
lifetime; but none as sacred, as human, or as eternal as the first look from life to life; 
mother to child; heaven to earth, as the very first. None.)
     
“It’s a boy.” she whispered. Her throat a crumbling tunnel; stunned, but not really. Like 
she’d known it all along. “My baby boy…” She smiled into his ancient, brand-new face; 
tracing his delicate cheek with the back of her finger. “He’s perfect.” 
     She ran her palm along the bottom of his soft, miraculous foot, and laughed. “Look at 
your feet – they’re huge!”
     And as she wiped the tears with the heel of her shaking hand – smearing what was left of 
her mascara - she looked in to his, as close to heaven as one can get, eyes, and said, “Hi.
I’m your mama.” He smiled at her. He knew. He’d known it all along. “And I’ll love you 
forever…”
     The world closed its shades then. Leaving the sacred to its history; the moment to 
eternity; and their universe to its quiet, little room.
     


*Inspired by Deborah's, You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby, contest; and every mother 
who has graced this sacred room.


Details | Narrative |

The Meadow

I'm always there, in that place that doesn't mean a thing to anyone but me. A far away 
meadow where I don't have to hide all the happiness of a young girls heart. One that has 
been ripped apart, so many times. I stare at all the beautiful flowers and trees of my 
surroundings and let the wind gently rustle my hair. I close my eyes taking in all these 
wonderful things, as I lie on the cool grass. My body mixes in with the air, and I'm blowing 
past natures statues and creatures galore. I stop at the edge of a nearby pond, my body 
floating softly to the ground as an eagles feather. I look deep into the sparkling image that 
makes me who I am. I gracefully touch the water with my fingertips and let the water 
shimmer like the stars. A white unicorn grazing near the freshly harvested hay, called out to 
me. It approached me as I stood, and nuzzled my arm. I brushed its silk coat and burrowed 
my face against her cool cheek. This is the reason I come to this place. To interact with the 
things not known or believed in their world. Its just my own, my sound and the behind 
scenes of my eyes. It's calm and peaceful, which their world is far from. I'm the only one with 
the doorway to this meadow. I love going there, it's like a blanket that warms its comfort 
over me when I need it the most. And when I get there, my feelings are a boat sailing to 
sea, leaving me filled with perfect serenity. I'll always be there, till the end of all life, and I 
know this lovely meadow will never be replaced.


Details | Narrative |

FATAL ATTRACTION

FATAL ATTRACTION
-------------------------
His lucent light illumines her eyes
His face outshines the sun
His ethereal beauty unveils the skies
Her vibrant vision swiftly succumbs

Her silenced tongue, his intimate touch
His intangible hands sliding/slithering
Spiraling down with a gentle glide
Her body cold and shivering 

His fiery eyes ignite a flame
Her attention he gains as she stares
Their lips entwine, his blissful rapture
Devours her heart from cares

Encapsulated, she can't escape
He clutches her in his arms
Her safe haven, her wedded love
His pearl preserved from harm

Her beating heart, a decelerate speed
Her aperture devoid of breath
His succulent waters drown her tongue
Compelling her closer to death

Solitary seclusion, her world in diffusion
Subverts her mind, subtracts her understanding
He gains her trust, thrusting utter confusion
Rest assuring her of a safe landing

She drowns herself to ceaseless sleep
In his grasp from detouring distractions
At her beauteous site, he rejoices and weeps
Absorbed in her FATAL ATTRACTION


Details | Narrative |

Old Pet

 I remember a riding pony I had as a lad which was born blind. A filly she was born during an 
Arkansas blizzard and we did not know that she was blind at first for we kept our horses in our 
barn for several days because of the winter storm. We all had fallen in love with her by the time 
we learned she was blind and could not bear to put her down. I remember training her to ride 
after she was mature enough and I named her “Pet” for she was my riding pony.
 
 We spent many happy days together riding inside the green pastures. 
I remember she never refused to let me ride her even the first time. And she learned very 
quickly to respond to my voice and she trusted in every command that I gave her. 
I would say, “easy Pet” when we would come to rough terrain or an eroded ditch in the 
pasture. She would slow to a careful walk, in response to my voice.
 
 I would ride her down into the lower part of the pasture to the creek in hottest part of the day. 
Pet could of course smell the water and when she would come near the bank of the creek I 
would again say, “easy Pet” and she would respond by slowing to a snail’s pace down the steep 
bank. 

 Pet would wade out about belly depth into the water where she would drink her fill of the cool 
clear water. And I would use her back as a diving board launch and swim to my heart’s delight. 
After she was through drinking I would climb on her back again and give her head to her and 
she would trot to the barn where she knew I would give her treats, such as carrots, apples, 
sugar cubes and so on. 

 I remember I never did have the heart to make her run full speed as 
I supposed that her blindness was burden enough in her life for her to bear. 
It is said of truth that one gets to keep in heaven those things of this life that were loved sufficiently. 
I know that my beloved Pet shall be my precious playmate again in the heavenly ethereal of the Spirit.

 Pet lives on even now in the depths of my childhood memories. Her loving low neighs as she 
approached me by smell, and her nuzzles into my pocket for the sugar cubes she knew would 
always be there for her. In heaven I shall see my Pet again, and this time she will see me, 
maybe for the first time.    

For and in honor of Carol Brown
and Contest.


Details | Narrative |

DEMONS ALSO CRY

DEMONS ALSO CRY

Beyond the crave for death
All I sought was first,
Weep-not my newborn soul
Where fireflies shine lighter than the lamps
And fishes swam faster than their homes
Like  trampled troubled tramps,
Then, demons also cry.

Groans and moans of pain,
Down they roam like rain
Memories sparked with flashes of feisty flare
For all that is left is nothing but darkness
Piercing the thread of our bond
That even angels dare not dare
Then, demons also cry

Here, days brimmed with sadness
To miscarriage of nights darkness
That even birds glide backward
And when asked why, we say, its nature to nurture
Conscience lye frozen in muss, has God punished us?
Que sera, sera and all go wayward,
Then, demons are also crying
						By Tutuola michael


Details | Narrative |

On Heaven's Doorway

I arrived at heaven’s doorway and found my friend, Walter, sitting on the front steps.  Walter had passed years before me.  I was surprised to see him still waiting in front of heaven’s gate.  Walter was, without doubt, the nicest, humblest, most religious person I knew during my days on earth.  How in the world could Walter be kept from entering into heaven?  If there was anyone who deserved immediate entry into heaven, it was Walter.

He looked so sad and forlorn.  I was so angry at God for denying this good man entry into his kingdom.

“Walter,” I pleaded, “why are you sitting out here on the steps to heaven?  Please do not tell me you have been denied entry.”

“No,” Walter replied.  “They have a place for me.  But I am torn.”

“TORN,” I screamed.  “Torn over what?  You lived the closest thing to a perfect life that I can imagine.  You took care of the sick, the wretched and the poor.  You never spoke ill of a single person and you shared all the goodness shone upon you with everyone you knew.  What is it that has you so torn?”

“Well,” Walter bemoaned, “that’s just it.  I was taught to live my life in such a way as to relieve the pain borne by my brothers.  I was taught to share my wealth and happiness with those less fortunate.  I was taught to love and care for my enemy.”

“And you did that without fault, my friend. So, what is your dilemma?”

“My dilemma is: why should I stop now?  How can I possibly enter a paradise of everlasting joy and happiness when my brothers and sisters are suffering in hell?  If I am the man that I pretend to be, I must refuse entry into God's kingdom and try to make hell a little more bearable for my brothers and sisters down below.  I must go down there and mop the brow of those sinners whom I still love and still care for.  I simply cannot accept this reward of everlasting light.  I did not live my life the way I did for this reward – I lived it for the simple reward of doing what is right.”

I sat down next to Walter and took hold of his hand.

“You are a good man, Walter”, I said.  “Come on, we are going to hell … that’s probably where I was headed anyway.  Grab your handkerchief; we are going to need it.  I am sure there are plenty of brows to mop.”

Walter’s face lit up with the loving smile I found comfort in so many times on earth.

On our journey away from heaven’s door, Walter turned and said, “Leave the light on God, we will be back when our job is done in hell.”

He is a good man.


Details | Narrative |

The Morning Star

The Morning Star
By Nate Spears
                                
There’s clarity in the depths on my deepest thought
I’m never blind to a world of darkness
I’m challenged by whatever in time
Defeated by my ambition in others

Close to my last day
But far from my last night
And I’m light years away
From my very last fight
 
The actions of the man
Creates the path of his life
The absence of the man
Restrains his rights
The mentality of a man
Saves the day he's granted 
The intent of the man
Leads him the way the earth has planned it


 So feel my rose as it fades 
Feel my pedals bring a new days
As I sprout beyond the stars
To a galaxy that stands out
The route brings the creation to light
After the day 
After the night
After the darkness
After my arrival 
The morning is tainted
The day is seen in a human’s eye 
Sight has been sinful before and after
You and I
This is the heart filled reason
For the birth Christ.


Details | Narrative |

Don't Leave Me

I can't imagine being alive without you
I can't imagine what it will be like when your gone
I don't know what I'll become without you
Maybe I'll just run
Run away from everything and leave everyone behind
Maybe I'll find a way to be close to you
Because I won't believe you died 
My heart will ache so much more 
Tears will always run
My eyes will hold the wisdom 
That you bestowed upon me young
And my recklessness will be noticeable
People will wonder why
Why am I running when the person I needed most died
How can I face my life when I can't do anything right
I won't believe you have gone away
When God decides to take you
I'll still come by your house and always expect an answer
I Love You Gamma
You Taught Me About My Heritage  
Please Remember Me When God Takes You
Please Guide Me In the Right Way


Details | Narrative |

This Man Called Jesus

THIS MAN CALLED JESUS


Hey, Caiaphas! What do you think of this Man called Jesus
Well, now that you mention it, I think it's time that He died
Perhaps we can devise a plot to have Him crucified

Let's talk to Pontius Pilate and see what he has to say
I'll bet he will help us get rid of this aggravating Man
But we must devise a real solid foolproof plan

How about some false witnesses to tell a few lies
Yes, that just might do it, so round up a few
We can bribe them easily – they'll know what to do

That sounds good enough to rid us of Him
And one of His friends, Judas is his name
Will betray Him for silver and take all the blame

Why didn't we think to do this sooner
I had thought of it, but I feared it wouldn't go well
But I can't see any reason why this plan should fail

So the plot was formed and soon carried out
He was crucified, dead and buried, but arose after three days
Ascended into Heaven, to come again and judge mankind’s ways

Have you given any thought concerning eternal life
You've been given a choice – what will your choice be
It's either Heaven or hell for eternity

What do you think of this Man called Jesus
Will you accept Him as Lord and serve Him alone
Or die in your sins before all hope is gone


	Curtis Moorman
	19 January 2013


Details | Narrative |

Mission

Latin mission = sending
Mission is the sending of the Church
Father Christ mandate to all Christians
Proclaim the Gospel in word and deed

So that all men can freely make a decision for Father Christ
But be careful to choose the faith
The effect can be too late or not
Choose wisely which faith is the bridge to heaven

4102013


1234