These Christian Rain poems are examples of Christian poems about Rain. These are the best examples of Christian Rain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Written June 6, 2013
The preacher read the gospel
And we sank into our tears
Tearing down the curtain
We've been behind for all these years
A baby leaves its mother
An angel drops its wings
Leave me bound against the wall
Dangling by a string
Sitting by the window
Hoping she'll remember me
Sitting by the window
Resolve your inhibitions
And you'll find me in the garden
Where the flowers drink champagne
And God is in the rain
I while away these morning hours
With the sky so very dark
A trillion stars they sparkle brightly
As I’m strolling though this park
With Bear cub rushing on ahead
So excited that he’s free
It’s seems that we’re the only two
Who walk beneath these trees .
The rain is heavy in the air
Though it’s not falling yet
I love it when the rain comes down
My heart fills with regret
If the drops don’t touch my skin
With their early morning sweetness
I love to feel their tingling touch
As my face they do caress.
Ah, here it comes, the air is filled
With moonbeams soft yet bright
Sparkling like a trillion gems
To give such sweet delight
To eyes all bathed in velvet soft
As the rain caresses me
There’s something about this morning rain
So filled with mystery.
14 July 2013 @ 0412hrs.
The alarm clock in my head wakes me with a
Outside, the rain is falling so hard. It sounds like someone's
trying to break into my room.
It's Christmas Day.
It might as well be August 25th because the conversation in my head has not changed
since then. "You are a piece of shit."
I think of things I need to worry about, things I've worried about since August 25th and way before that.
My anxiety runs through my veins like hot chemo.
I stagger to the living room and stare at the half-decorated Christmas tree ...
gold balls weighing down one side. Empty green takes up the other. Oh, there are two figurines of kittens that I bought at a garage sale in Staten Island in 1998.
God. 3:10 am.
A whole day to spend by myself.
Not a fake friend in sight today, with their banal conversations about picking up their laundry or meeting at the gym at whatever time to do arms or back.
Just as well; I get a blank stare from them when I want to talk about chasing happiness or being childless at 53.
The TV is my savior. It pulls me out of myself.
Bing Crosby comes on singing "White Christmas." He's dancing
with those two impossibly shiny bleached blondes. And they all have those white, almost blue American teeth -- not one out of place.
I wake up on the couch and "White Christmas" is still playing; it must be a marathon.
Outside, the rain has turned to snow and there are two messages on my phone -- from Christian friends inviting me to their houses for the day.
It's tough being a Buddhist on Christmas. OK, so I know, as the Buddhists say, everything is OK as long as I let it be OK.
But this is one day of the year I don't want to "be."
I consider whether to shower. It takes 10 minutes to decide. I let the hot water run down my back, and I don't know if it's burning from the water or my nerve endings.
I don't want to face Christmas - but I have decided to join life and go to Cory's to see his kids, stare at the tree and eat some turkey.
I decide to take a Xanax, and I stick one in my pocket as assurance.
Maybe some of this gloom will yet lift from my heart.
I see the rain,
Dancing across the sidewalk,
Carefully placing each drop
One at a time,
They flow with each other,
Gracefully and in sync,
As a dance from the heavens
Praising the One who made them,
And as I watch them,
I become hypnotized,
By their beauty
Blackness, a dark version of me, badness, negativity.
No matter how fast i run or were i run too your right behind me.
Even the brightest sun doesn’t destroy you, you only exist because of me.
All i know is when i face the darkness you disappear, but to only return when the sun rises.