These Mystery Faith poems are examples of Faith poems about Mystery. These are the best examples of Mystery Faith poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
I saw him on the highway
Thought he was insane
Standing with his thumb out
In the pouring rain
I don't usually stop for hitchhikers
But something said I should
Besides, it was raining awful hard
And the wind was blowing good.
I said, "Hop in, it's cold out there.
Where you headed on this stormy night?"
He said, "Down the road, I really don't care
Just somewhere else will be all right.
I ain't got no license, so I'm travelling kind of slow
They just left me out of prison a few nights ago."
I might not have stopped had I known
Now we were on this dark road all alone.
I didn't know if I was in any danger
But as I drove, I listened to this stranger
He spoke of life and of acceptance
He spoke of sin and of repentance
A story of gratitude and saving grace
And I saw a smile come on his face.
He asked if I'd take him a little farther down
And drop him off in another town
I was already late but I said okay
And I listened to his stories along the way.
When he was getting out he said, "Thanks for the hand.
God will bless you. Soon, you'll understand."
There was a new feeling inside me that I found
And I began to turn my life around.
I stopped at the prison to find out about Jack
And tell him how I got my life on track.
The warden listened and he shook his head
Saying, "I have a hard time believing what you said.
It couldn't be Jack, I'm telling you so.
You see, Jack died this day, eighteen years ago."
Angels come in strange forms sometimes.
I am the Preacher's son
who stole the bread
and broke it with a wrinkled face,
the essence weaving behind her retinas.
When I stole from the church,
Mrs. Worther 'the bird', had spied me
sneaking out the vestibule door,
from her usual early service perch
in the very back pew.
She carried this secret for many years,
including when she caught me eavesdropping
on midweek board meetings
from behind crates of cheap wine.
Instead of showing scorn,
she had given me a warm wink,
offering a lesson
by leaving me there to think.
who had been my Sunday school teacher,
had made me study the lessons
without ever becoming a preacher --
when it came to my thievery
and excursions into the park,
where I broke the bread
with a wrinkled face,
the essence shimmering behind her retinas.
I am the Preacher's son,
who instead found the presence
amongst ducks and swans,
when I broke the bread
with that crazy old lady -
gleaned what I needed to do,
and since then,
have never again
sat in another pious pew.
I am the 'bad' Preacher's son.
Some people whisper righteously
how I have come undone,
made a pact with the dark,
while I break the bread
with that age-old essence in the park.
March 24th, 2014
(originally written: March 24th, 2010)
How ironic? Has God ever fallen in love?
I am sure the supreme power does have a clue about love.
Then why are many struggling with questions that have no answers.
If certain sensations are not meant to be then why does one have to go through it?
Or is it a good way to put a check list on Karmic activities.
One’s feeling doesn’t seem to make any sense and the restless notion only brings discomfort.
Even though some things seem so right and pulls one toward a make believe world,
Attempts and efforts don’t seem to fade away.
It is with the tornado of genuine feelings that keep the tingly feeling of love alive.
So does God understand this?
Even though modernization has struck onto the minds of many,
The devotion and willingness to surrender to that person develops a passionate and overpowering desire.
The sweet and sour, or bitter and sweet emotion creates fear or questions fate again and again.
Once the brave feeling has been awakened and humble efforts have been tried upon,
One cannot fight destiny, but can hopefully open a new change to Karmic policies.
As time goes by, one notices that it is no more days, weeks, months, but years that has shaken the foundation of a belief that finally love will conquer over the negativity,
Love is the feeling that has no answers but only a precious sensation is felt.
Again no answers, but more questions and experiences are shown and learnt in every way.
There must be something better stored for everyone that is why one walks through a chain of tests.
Happy living and sustain that positive attitude.
The autumnal grace that bodes so well
For eager souls departs,
Upon a dove wore Gaelic prose
Devised by naïve hearts,
For afterthoughts as echoed dew
Sate the doleful needs,
Of naïve souls whose hearts dispose
Of decadence and greed,
For autumnal grace a phrase misplaced
In modern times bestowed,
With meaning laced with fervent haste
That once defined our souls.
" From the debt of my heart"
The African child
Sat behind the bamboo fence
He was sober and tense
Sputtering and wondering.
He forsook the bush meat
And the gathering under the moonlight
For sobriety and the causes of his uncertainties.
His clothes were like dried leaves
His feet like openings in the eaves
He longed to see a brighter tomorrow
He clarified the causes of his sorrow;
Sins of the father,
Fighting not to make things better
Therefore darkening the weather,
Making his destiny falter and bitter.
Tears exuded from the sound of his flute,
His fears enlarged like a parachute
But one thing he never understood,
Watch and pray, oh! African root
For your foundation is stinky, filthy,
Faulty and guilty...... watch and pray.
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
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
Silence can deceive
One's quiet to understand
Another to destroy
my heart breathes its last breath
Embraces its own death
Ready to be reborn
and made anew
Can’t live a lie
Refuse to “do”
and I’ll DIE....
Focus now on why I’ll live
And never touch the sky.
I have to forget you
I have to reject you
But I will never love anyone
like I loved you.....
I heard you whisper
and you never knew it
I wiped the tears from your eyes
But you couldn’t feel it
You’re lost and you’ll never find you
And neither will I
And I’m so sorry--
but I’m NOT.
I'll attempt to reset
Try to forget
But you know, I never will.
Be my dirty little secret
My very worst-kept secret
Sweet, smooth, beautiful poison
My infernal and endless attraction
towards complete and utter self-destruction
I fell in love with the devil
And it will take one heck of an angel
To save me from the likes of you....
my dream never to come true
Oh, I’ll never forget the times
we never shared
I’ll never forget
how you were never there
Always me, the stars, and tears
And I ask you,
what kind of life is THAT?
I have to face the facts
I don’t know what happens now
but it happens without you.
The stains will always be there
the scars will never fade
But the memory of you----
it HAS to.
I could carry the torch forever
But it would only consume me
I can’t cry another tear for you
Or I’ll dry up completely
It doesn’t affect you
and you never deserved me
You’ll go on with your life, too
All, all alone
Because you’ll only ever be in love
I stand here in this abandoned
church listening to the derelict
silence of the sombre ambience.
I look out of a shattered stain-glass
window, my mind has gone blank.
The bell rings sending an eerie
chime through the dust covered
My heart is racing from the
spine-chilling fear that suddenly
floods my body.
I look once more; a white
dove sits peacefully on the
window sill chirping its soft
song; tranquillity from deep
within a magical heart.
The bell rings once more,
it startles me,
I turn back to peer out of the
the dove was made from glass.
Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust
for things start to be.