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Hope Age Poems | Age Poems About Hope

These Hope Age poems are examples of Age poems about Hope. These are the best examples of Hope Age poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Money-God

Trust not in the words: "In God We Trust", printed on currency,
for God and Money should be kept separate,
unless one desires to tempt fate with the Money-God,
tempt fate by not over-turning the money-lenders' tables,
although many might argue how this isn't good for business.

Why not know the value of life,
instead of focusing too hard on the prices of Idols.

People are bleating at the prospect of "God" being removed
from money, arguing that if God is removed from money,
the grazing grounds will become Godless.

Godless? 
With or without the words, 
a Money-God is a God nonetheless.
There is at least one true God, 
whether man-made or not;
an authority of control,
a God of profit margins.
Violence is a profit margin.
Hatred is a profit margin.
Bullets, Amendments, and Death, are all profit margins.

The war being waged upon children, is a profit margin.

If I had been given the chance, 
I would have tried my best to take him out,
morphed the vapours of my remaining hatred into bullets,
or torn him apart with my hands.
To stop innocents from losing their innocence.
There are lines drawn in minds,
that if crossed over, stretch beyond the bristle-board of rehabilitation.
Even Clockwork Orange bleeds into crimson spatters.

When a child survives a massacre,
runs across his school field to find safety from a stranger,
proclaiming to the stranger, "I can't go back to my school, it isn't safe there.
My teacher was killed, I don't have a teacher anymore.
All of my friends are dead."....

....then innocence has been lost, and the Money-God is empowered even more.
Lost innocence spreads like a disease through the minds of global villagers.
Fear breeds fear, breeds control and disintegration of the Stream-Mind.

If I had been given the chance,
I would have fought fire with fire,
fed the beast within, 
taken him apart with a breath of hatred.
Breathed it out, pushed it out, purged it out.

Satan is a scapegoat used by people who are unwilling 
to take accountability for their actions and sacred responsibilities.
The Beast is humanity -
not marked by a fairy-tale Devil,
but instead marked by the Money-God created in the image of man;
recreating the image of man through fear.

Some people might be intrigued by how many definitions of God there are.
Even if money is a necessity,
within our core there should reside a different Kingdom -
without and within, within and without.

If I had been given the chance -- past tense....

....if I am given the chance,
I will try my best to take him out,
smudge him out
with the remaining hatred in my heart.
Breathe it out, push it out, purge it out,

until all that's left is to love,
until all that's left is to love.







December 14th, 2012 - S.H.E.S:  28 - 2 = 26




January 7th, 2013




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Details | Narrative |

The Long-Suffering Wife

Believing that marriage was ordained of God; 
that, like a seed, it needed constant nurturing, 
she sowed her deep devotion with a hope 
that stretched beyond an ordinary scope. 
That hope scanned schisms that had left her desolate-
until it reached the heavens with her prayers.

Time and time again, her spouse complained or failed to do small things
essential to cementing the marriage bond.
With unusual restraint, she held her tongue, forgave. . . and listened.
If matrimony were the fire in a hearth, she supplied the kindling and the logs;
then lauded him for twigs that on occasion he tossed in. 
Some nights she’d lay a weary head upon the chest 
of the one she called her husband (when he was fast asleep and didn’t know). 
In those moments, she felt the beat of that heart he never showed to her.

With humbleness she supplicated God 
that she might find connection with her mate.
She wondered and she wondered why. . .if thoughts, invisible, 
which were transmitted to the Lord, were able to be recieved by Him,
why could not her words, directly spoken to the one on earth she loved, be heard?

Daily on her knees, she telegraphed celestially with a faith most extraordinary. . . 
and wisdom came. Her love would not be broken, and she grew. 
The seed she’d planted took root too and grew until there came a time. . .
she laid a graying head upon the chest
of one that was her husband (not just in word only); 
a someone who now watched HER as she drifted off to sleep. 
With his heartbeat strong in her ear,
she heard him whisper softly, “I love you” as he kissed her cheek goodnight.


For Audrey Carey's "To Err Is Human to Forgive Divine"


Details | Rhyme |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Rhyme |

Follow Your Heart

Father Time has brought us safely thus far And our future is not tied to some distant star. We’ve always had each other’s arms That kept us together and safe from all harm. Yet, all our yesterdays now stand alone. And we know that tomorrow is not cast in stone, Where once we saw happiness, now there is pain It seems memories and heartaches are all that remain. So, when life seems the darkest and troubles appear And all the world’s dangers, alarmingly near, Remember our love - let it play its part And don’t be afraid to follow your heart. Written By John Posey 06/15/13


Details | Tanka |

LOVE, ANGELS, and MUSIC

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


Details | Free verse |

I need it to rain

I need to hide
to drown my sorrow
to not feel obligated to stay a secret
the darkness to blanket my self inflicted pain
the thunder to stifle my screams
the lightening to set me on fire
I need it to rain...

I need to be revitalized and invigorated
to feel serene and tranquil
to be calm and collected
the darkness to bring me peace
the thunder to direct my mind
the lightening to guide my heart
I need it to rain...

I need to escape
to feel the ground at my feet
to feel the wind in my hair
the darkness to blind my captor
the thunder to clap in approval
the lightening to sever my shackles 
I need it to rain...

I need to grow
to heighten my potential
to cultivate and thrive
the darkness to shelter my fraility
the thunder to ward off any imminent danger
the lightening to strike as my weapon
I need it to rain...

I need to be laid to rest
for someone to cry for me
for someone to long for me
the darkness to resemble my abscence
the thunder to echo my voice through your ears
the lightening to flash visions of me before your eyes
I need it to rain...


Details | Free verse |

Self inflicted blues

This day I grow tired
and so incredibly weary.
My heart holds only dreams
of a Life unfullfilled
A Life not nurtured,
yet barely a glimmer
of the spirit that once was.

I do have memories of some things good 
-not all bad,
But the fear that I am alone
is Like a fingerprint on my Life.

Shadowing, waiting to pounce,
always there, unshakeable.

It's the mirrors that hold me accountable
to my actions.
Proof positive that where ever I go
there I am,
Naked, vulnerable, and yes
still alone.

As I try to allay this fear, 
one Lonely and painful pluck at a time,
It becomes crystal clear, that I alone
am damaging my soul to the very core
with each stroke of my hand.

I steal one Last Look in the mirror
and know that I alone
have self inflicted these blues
Leaves me to ponder one question:

Will I ever allow myself the strength and grace
it will surely take to heal my scarred soul?                        
                                                      
  



This poem was written in hopes of begining the healing process for my self. I 
have a disease called trichiotillamania. It is an obsessive and manic urge to pull 
one's own hair until baldness occurs. I'm a 48 year old woman, married(with kids 
& grand kids)and have been doing this since the age of 5. It coincided with the 
begining of my stepfather raping and torturing me which lasted until the age of 
thirteen. This disease has me trapped and is NEVER letting me go. There are 
two inflictions in regards to my hair pulling in this poem, one must know about 
my disease in order to understand this poem.


Details | Rhyme |

The Hypocritical Christian

I am the hypocritical Christian.
I say I follow Christ,
But I'm still consumed by my demons.
I go to church on Sunday,
But I refuse to invite someone back.
I want to serve on mission,
But I'm too afraid to act.
They think I read The Bible,
But I just fall asleep in it.
They think I'm positivity and smiles,
But underneath I'm death and addictions.
They think I'm clean and pure,
But I'm broken and mistaken.
I say I'm not worthy of His love,
But Jesus will never let me be forsaken.
I pray long prayers,
But inside they're empty repetition.
It might look as if my faith is strong,
But my core is too easily shaken.
I say the things I'm supposed to say,
But don't follow His actions or obey.
I speak the truth the church wants to hear,
But deep inside on matters I don't know what to believe.
I walk in shame as if I'm not good enough
To be loved by God and saved through Christ,
But there is nothing I could ever do to earn His peace;
It's a free gift.
I accept;
Now forgiven, changed, and released.
Thank You God,
Thank You Jesus,
Thank You Holy Spirit!
In Jesus' Holy Name,
We pray,
Amen!


Details | Free verse |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | Quatrain |

Lonely Dreams

I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.


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