These Tree Christian poems are examples of Christian poems about Tree. These are the best examples of Tree Christian poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Well we are already a couple of months in so i just wanted to say welcome.
this will be a new journey for the both of us, so i hope it will be awesome.
I will try to write more than usual this year, I promise. :)
What would help tho if you readers would send me topics and stuff to help me write about things cuz my mind goes way faster than my fingers and i cant think of just one thing. lol. so thank you readers. plz comment and tell me your thoughts.
She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.
The ominous reflection of moon
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.
Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.
Her claws prophesy of vengeance
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency
for a soul's annihilation.
Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.
It's March. we'll never reach it/ no matter how fast you go/
I'm breathing/ it's cold and chilly/ I'm lying right on the floor/
It's March. it's obedient, humble, ridiculous, playful and rude/
with lipstick on mirror's surface/ "everything's gonna be good"/
it's night. black veil in square / of window /and it expands/
you can take any star from the heaven’s roof/ grabbing it with your hand/
milky way - is the fountainhead channel / for galaxies to begin /
get the glass from the kitchen and pour it /with pure and shining moon milk/
Emptiness isn’t the absence/ of particles/ molecules/ cells
Like if they never knew the secrets/ like if they nothing have to tell/
Void’s more like broken dishes / pieces stuck somewhere in chest/
We make a short trailer of our movie/ trying to do our best/
Cigarettes/ coffee/ balcony/ exhale-eat-pray- and love/
Morse is similar to the Braille alphabet/ falling as music above/
Night is dying / I see its grin/ universe’s twirling the window touch/
I look into its soul/which is eaten/ by sadness/ it’s March. It is March.
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.
Are we awake or are we still sleeping?
Blind to the hurt, and deaf to the weeping.
Ashamed of religion and supportive of the new,
Aware of the lies and hidden from what’s true.
Worship the evil and turn away the pure,
Developing disease with an unknown cure.
Starving the poor and overfeeding the wealthy.
Killing the sick and drugging the healthy.
Going to war for some kind of power,
Building tall structures over all types of flower.
Cutting the trees and polluting the air,
All out of greed, with no sort of care.
Turning us against our own,
And help from up above.
Making us beings of hate,
Instead of ones of love.
Demonizing the mystic,
Criticizing the wise.
Making our own family members,
Into people that we despise.
Awaken to the torment,
Be aware of all the pain.
Those who are misleading,
And claiming that we are insane.
In the vast beauty and diversity
of the reaches of the cosmos
impresses upon us all
the shear minute dust we are
in any comparison
The simplicity of laws
that govern it's most basic
and complex movements
Birth , Life , Death
some would distain this as "circular"
as the patterns in creation are
for all things existing within its confines
the birth , life , death of stars , galaxies
entropy and the recirculation of those elements
into new structures encased
in the womb for new material
apply equally to the diversity of structures
cycling on the little blue marble
seed sprout bush tree seed
seed sprout plant flower seed
seed baby child adult seed
same down onthe cellular level
same down tothe atomic level
and its clock
in a state of perfectly circular self propagation
For those who foolishly accuse us of being
Let me explain a simple something
how we measure time in the cosmos
is based on a circular orbital movement of planets
and as for thinking
are questions seeking answers which just
lead to more questions
and that's the beauty of it
simplicity defines even the most
complex systems that function
right down to the circuit boards for computers
Mama seals it with Kiss
Keep it simple stupid
anyone who doesn't know
a clock embedded in the universe
has not recognized his own
COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC