Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Prose Poetry Faith Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Faith

These Prose Poetry Faith poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Faith. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Faith poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Salvation comes with a far greater sacrifice than blind faith and car-wash fundraisers

Travelling to a foreign land,
engaging in a cause not rightfully yours to join,
illegally taking up arms
with a desperate desire to save baby orphans
(only to dig them into the ground anyway);
is a life-altering experience.

There is an old line which goes something like:
"A part of my soul died on that cold, November morn."

But, such an experience can have the opposite effect entirely.
Yes! An experience such as this
can re-kindle a passion within,
so that every single particle,
every minute of each passing hour,
feels like a sacred gift -
the most sacred gift imaginable.

Yet upon returning home from such an experience,
after being grilled by Internal Affairs,
threatened with charges of International Treason,
Subterfuge and Espionage(but in the end,
you were only trying to save baby orphans
that you had to dig into the ground anyway,
so Internal Affairs drops the charges, telling you to scram),
you are inevitably slapped across the face
with an inescapable new reality....

....everyone appears to be whining and complaining
about the most trivial things,
as if everyone simultaneously feels wronged.

And this is wot you feel compelled to do:
you want to take these whiners,
transport them one-by-one
back to the foreign land with you.
After they see living skeletons
drag themselves across the dirt,
moaning, groaning, pleading for a drop of clean water, 
a miniscule morsel of food,
you hand the whiner a gun,
point toward an ominous dust-cloud on the horizon,
and this is wot you say:

"See the dust-cloud moving closer towards us.
It is filled with psychopathic horsemen.
These psychopathic butchers are wielding bayonets, machetes and Kalashnikovs.
If you and I do not successfully kill these mad horsemen,
they are going to chop apart all of the baby orphans
congregated in the courtyard over there.
Do you see the beautiful baby orphans in the courtyard?
Yes, those are the orphans.
And if we do not successfully defend this camp,
yet somehow survive with our lives,
we are going to spend the rest of the night
digging the baby orphans into the ground.

So, it best be high time you wipe the tears from your face,
stop worrying about how so-and-so called you a loser or wotever,
how your retirement funds appear to be shrinking
and so you won't be able to play as many games
of hitting the little white ball across a course 
fed with enough water to run an entire city.
Forget about your little boo-boo.
Pull-up your chin, straighten that spine,
and start squeezing the trigger like there's no tomorrow."






September 25th, 2011

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A MESSAGE OF LOVE FROM WHITNEY

Every time you listen to my songs
I will be sending you a great big kiss
And though I moved beyond your sight
Know all of you I will surely miss

Always remember the joy and laughter
That always found a home within my face
Always think about all the wonderful times
I took your mind and heart to another place

Please try never to shed unhappy tears
Each day my love ones while I am away
For there will be a time in the near future
When again in each others arms we'll stay

And tomorrow morning when you think of me
About the love you always saw in my eyes
Remember wherever you might be in your life
My spirit will never again leave your side

My family I miss all your hugs and kisses
Which I will always treasure, and I am sure
One day soon again we will laugh and sing
Together in heaven with our precious Lord.

A poem i was moved to write for Whitney, a beautiful
spirit, while listening to Stevie Wonder sing 'Love is in need
of love at here funeral!

Wendell A. Brown
Copyright  February 18, 2012,
All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Trust


                                          
                            Swallowed by the night rain;
                       I chased the light.
                 Though you knew I could not trust it.
               It changes itself when it meets a black hole.

Copyright © Umme Salma Alam | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Disappear

wake up to serendipity
ignorant and unknown
shaken and not stirred
blond can be bond

Reality, metaphor and cliche
cheesy juvenile decay
Love, care and hate
past the use by date

of fights and torment
and well deserved lament
salute to the solitary reaper
with Metallica... I disappear

Copyright © Anwar Hussain | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Tale of Sandy the Snail

This is the tale of Sandy the snail...
Who always wore her hair in a ponytail...
She was different from others and I’m sure you’ll agree...
As her colors were bright neon fluorescent green you see... 
She wasn’t content just moving slow...
She wanted to run like a Marathon Pro...
Up early each morning...
When the Sun arose...
She did pushups, pull ups and touched her toes...
Alas... it was then she realized this was futile...
As everyone knows...
If she had feet, she would be more mobile...

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Power Of Faith

Why do birds have wings,
Did you ever watch them fly?
Gracefully they fill the air,
Beauty in the sky.

Why do puppies wag their tail,
Their happiness so pure?
The little squeeks and special sounds,
Steal your heart for sure.

Why do trees have leaves,
Their branches reaching far?
Their start in life a tiny seed,
Their growth wonder and awe.

Why does the sun rise in the East,
Brighten our life each day?
It then sets in the West,
When it is time to go away.

Why do flowers only bloom,
For a little while?
We enjoy their beauty,
They soon go out of style.

Why is there a rainbow,
Whose colors have no end?
Why is it not straight,
Instead of in a bend?

Moses brought the Israelites,
Out of Egypt's land.
How did they get there anyway,
We do not understand.

Thomas, do you believe,
Because you see and feel?
Bless those who accept the Son,
For it is God's Will.

RAYMOND V. MORGAN

Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Song My Heart Sings

Each morning as my eyes awaken
A lovely song in my heart is heard
Its melody is more than enchanting
It inspires me with amazing words

How could I ever live without you
Lord, why would I ever turn away
From your spirits song of deep love
Which within my heart simply stays

I deeply breathe your perfect harmony 
Accepting your kiss of a love divine
Happiness paints my world beautifully
Since your wonderful gift became mine

Lord, I will always let the world know
How truly blessed my life really is
From that very first perfect moment
As you spoke to me the words I forgive

All that I thought would not be possible
Suddenly in an instant became very true
As my heart humbly responded joyfully 
How much in life I really needed you

I will seek new ways each morning
To happily lift up your name in praise
Thanking you for making love a reality
As a treasured blessing which now stays.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Don't Think You Know

Good morning Father, may I have a talk with you because to my self I need to be true. For Father I am living in a world of shadow and doubt and I thank you Lord for straightening things out. I have been looking at my life thinking I was living it right, I thought I had the scoop until you started to show me the truth and I was thrown for a loop.

Now I have listened to people who sound intelligent and some not quite so, some could prove what they said and others I know were just putting on a show, but there is none in worst shape than the ones who think they know. I know this to be true 'cause I thought I knew. So your laws I did forsake and that was a huge mistake. It started while growing up in the hood, where up is down and bad is good, It's no longer just there, so it must be in the air because everywhere it has spread now ain't that a kick in the head. 

When I was a child I heard screw discipline and run wild. Well life burst my bubble and I stayed in trouble. Then why work when you can get over and you can do it while getting high, forget being sober. Well, I ended up on the rocks 'cause that took me to the school of hard knocks. Then I heard drown your troubles and rebel, that took me through a living Hell. Now the world makes this easy to believe, you think you know but you are being very naive and totally deceived.

Lord I thank you, for showing me, in this life which has so many ways you can go, to take it slow and whatever you do, Don't Think You Know. Now lord I see we are living in perilous times with high and heinous crime. People are turning cold as ice, many are saying down with Jesus Christ and the whole world is about to pay an extremely high price, At The Rise Of The Anti- Christ. For without you Lord He's an unbeatable foe and one of his most powerful weapons is To Make You Think You Know.

This comes with a twist, 'cause He will also make you think, He don't even exist. For he know us all to well and his mission is, To Send Us All To Hell. Now I thank you Lord for showing me, That The Holy Bible is the key to unlocking life's mysteries. With you my life was a waste and whatever I face, I now know, I can do nothing without your Grace. And I thank you again for clearing things up for going the way of the world, you will drink from a very bitter cup.

Now I am all aglow 'cause walking with you, I No Longer Think I Know. Thank you again, AMEN.

Copyright © Milton Robertson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

DECEMBER 2015

DECEMBER 2015 - "For what is our hope, our joy, or the crown, in which we glory in the presence of our Lord Jesus when He comes?" 1 Thessalonians 2:19

This year America waits,
With great anticipation.
For peace, love and joy,
Throughout the nation.

Christians are under attack,
For what is in their heart.
Hatred fills the air,
Our nation torn apart.

Death in our schools,
Murder on the streets.
Hurry, Jesus, we pray,
Before their goal is complete.

Freedom Religion,
A promise written true.
Not it's only if you follow theirs,
Christians know not what tio do.

We read more every day,
How we must suffer for His Cause.
Evil ones in control,
they pass the laws.

There was a time in history,
It was so long ago.
God sent His Only Son,
To teach us how to go.

In a humble stable He was born,
Written Word said it would be.
People given a reason to believe,
Praised Him in songs of victory.

We are lost without His son,
The Bright Star for all to see.
Please give us another sign,
To set Your People free.

RAYMOND V. MORGAN






Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fabel24

 Fabel24 
Fabel24 
 
 
CHARLAX 
 
CHARLEXES FABELS 
 
CONVERTED 
SAVED CONVERTED INVERTED CRUCIFIED DEAD BUT NOT YET BURIED 
Kiss the ewe she never cries she never sighs she stays happy all the times we 
try. The eye was stopped by a patrolman in the middle of my walk to the church to 
lay my layman down to rest a night a bite of something not so sweet in bag to 
help me live. He said ADDRESS what is your ADDRESS like it's the most 
important thing to have NO eye said NO eye do not have a TUCSON address just 
one in Flagstaff. HOMELESS he said. NO eye said eye have the ADDRESS in 
FLAGSTAFF the one on my ID card. NO he said you are just HOMELESS in 
TUCSON. He noticed that eye cared nothing for any of that. WHY did yew not say 
that to begin WITH he said to me and eye just tried to ignore a man who has the 
world to shrug upon his Atlast Shoulders? PHONE he said ??? No phone what's 
your cell phone??? 
EEYE do not have a PHONE NO CELL PHONE eye almost cried. 
NO NUMBER NO PLACE IN THIS WORLD TO CALL MY HOME. 
The Indian has no feather he is saved now he is in Heaven beside the MEE. Live 
in life wrap the world outside live the life of love and learn to live and love. Eat a 
LOT of CHARLAX eat a lot of poems eat a lot of Fabels now. 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry | |

7 Gifts of the Holy Spirit Prayer

Lord God,
Stretch our mind/s with deep understanding of Wisdom
To obtain positive understanding with every complications
Counsel us with guidelines in our work

Give us Fortitude, strength, Patience and Tolerance to finish in peace successfully
Deliver knowledge in our mind/s
For us to receive Piety, goodness and devoutness to get satisfaction
With Holy Fear of the Lord-God, I/we ask in the name of Father Christ Jesus to be with us now and forever.

Amen 
09122012

People can change the “our” to “their”, “him” or “his” when praying for others.

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Last Moment

Day by day my body decays
And my soul waits
For the warmth of your embrace
The meaning I cannot trace
The time is now to receive your grace
I remember much
Yet memories past have no bearing
I can see much
Life
The meaning almost clear
The dust settles and chaos vanquished
Peace and love echoed again and again through the halls of time
Bear no weight until the final moments
Jubilance captured
A single frame as I lay
Time will no longer wait and I can no longer stay
Weep not
Harmony engulfs me
Symphonies escort me
And angels guide me
My loving Father waits for me
I can almost see Him
I certainly feel Him
The old world fades to grey
Weep not
A brilliant glow not of this world fills me
A love not felt by mortals
It is the beginning of the end
My breath shallow
My thoughts clear
My soul readies
Do not weep
He is waiting for me
This is exactly where I am supposed to be

Copyright © Sean Taylor | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wake Up, BK

Such a beautiful sleeper but yet a 
life filled with nightmares; 
A demon fighter since her younger age; 
I applaud this princess for her strength. 

Since birth, the flash from cameras have 
overexposed your privacy, 
And left you a public flame, 
waiting for that moment you’ll ignite like 
your mother, 
If allowed, I could show you the wonders 
of the world, outside the seven you’ve seen 
already with your royal family of music, 
Just one request, B.K…..Wake up. 

Sadly the ruffles in your bed of life, 
Have prevented as good night’s sleep; 
For this reason, you feel no one can help you
straighten out your bed sheets; 
I however disagree.
I understand that times are tearful since 
the passing of your best friend, 
in the shape of a mother. 

From a distance I’ve noticed the devil 
creep up in your family; 
I acknowledge that this book of private 
affairs is not for me to read, but if allowed; 
I’d be willing to write better chapters for you 
in the future. 
One in particular would illustrate you 
kissing cloud nine, 
Reminiscing on a career that you were 
passionate about; 
If this path follows your mother, then may 
your voice resonate with the masses,
And display a true angel on earth. 
I sympathize with you, that negative forces in 
this world can shift your stairway downward; 
However, like the demons who constantly try 
to awake the skeletons in my closet, 
We’re all human, and for every fall, 
A rising is waiting, for when you’re spiritually 
ready; 
Let that marinate in your sleepless nightmares 
until you wake up, B.K. 

I anticipate the day when we meet outside 
my imagination, 
And the world views you in better light, 
That’s not dimmed by the shade of 
media; 
Understand that these images of a 
conversation between us are nothing less 
than encouragement; 
Just like “The Voice”, would sing so 
eloquently from her lips; 
The greatest love of all is love for yourself; 
If these words don’t carry enough weight, just look around; 
I’m sure you’ll recognize some ebony queens 
in your family who symbolize support. 
Remember that your fervent heart awakens for a 
reason, 
And the nightmares shall dissolve as you 
rise to awake, B.K. 
A true turning stone you will be. 

Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Journey

Part 1: Catalyst
I recently read a blog that purported to report news
Of extraordinary import to us all,
That the Catholic Pope, with a new encyclical letter,
Announced to the world his conviction that there is no Hell
And that the idea of  Hell itself  is just a literary device,
A metaphor for separation from God’s love,
An idea now vanquished by God’s Grace in Christ….
That all men are, in fact, brothers AND children
Of a loving Father who loves us all in spite of our antics,
Not a parent that choses favorites or pits child against child.

I thought, “Am I dreaming? How can this be true.”
“The church has so long been a source of judgment,
Pitting groups of men against each other
With appeals to their vanity and attempts to separate
Believers from their hard earned cash, not to serve God,
But to enrich perhaps man’s monuments to Satan himself.”
 
The Pope’s imagined letter continued with vows
To abandon intolerance, even recognizing that 
“Truth is not set in stone,” and that men have no right
To insist God cannot change or wisdom to discern it
If in fact it should happen, evolution itself seeming proof
That even God gets bored with the status quo at times
Just one little asteroid it seems and poof, abracadabra,
No dinosaurs, to munch any longer, on man’s progenitors.

The letter even suggested that we remain open to new
Sources of inspiration, like science perhaps,
Another good and perfect gift to man from God,
And concluded that no door open to one sex 
Should ever be closed to the other, that men and women
Should all be eligible to the church’s hierarchy
And Old Testament calls for intolerance and judgment
Be seen as outdated, and contrary to the message
Of love and truth, revealed in Christ’s teaching .
 
Part 2: The Unfolding of Feeling
It was as if the doors of heaven itself had been opened to me,
And Christ resurrected once again from the dead,
First death on the cross, second death by those
Who wear expensive versions of His stolen vestments
Perhaps only the innocent can truly know His pain,
Well, maybe the two thieves who died with Him as well
One of which entered paradise with him the same day.

Man’s journey, our journey with God began long before
The birth of all we know, God’s plan already perfect,
Before time as we know it began, in God’s imagination,
Even the very idea of your future life precious to Him.
The paradox of God knowing you completely and your free will
Already blossoming in one of God’s favorite gardens,
Nestled in the Word of the great I AM, the holy seed of your birth,
A poetry whose rhyme, rhythm, and music only angels sing.

How many stars had to die for your awakening in His plan?
How patient and wonderful His dream for your life,
As atom by atom your complex chemistry was collected
From the vastness of the whole of His creation!
All of this preparation for you, joy in your potential,
Who is greater in His heart, my brother, my sister than you?
Yet you think yourselves beyond the reach of His caring,
Beyond the warmth of His heart, because of other’s lies.
 
Part 3: The Denouement
Of course it is only fair for you to question my sharing,
Indeed the heart always doubts, but God doesn’t condemn,
His Grace always so much bigger than we can imagine,
His justice wiser that than that of our ancestors.
Yes, my own witness rests on the love of another….
This witness showed me God’s love without cunning
With his heart alone he proved that God’s love is real,
No evidence can disprove what I learned that day.
May God lead you to so trust my words or your own miracle!

Do not listen, my still troubled friends, to Sunday Christians
Who imagine their church to be a Country Club for the saved,
“We have so much money God must love us more than the rest!”
Let me assure you, whatever church or faith you visit by chance,
Regardless of what they think of themselves, you’ll find a niche,
For every church is, in fact, a hospital for the sick and dying.
While you are with them do whatever good that you can.
You might be the Good Samaritan a desperate church has prayed for,
You, though a stranger to their faith, teach them what faith means.

Part 4: Epilogue
Yes , on our journey of faith the terrain is never of our choosing,
The scenery, the wells that quench thirst, the manna heaven sent,
Our strength too, but movement is always our own will.
I called or wrote many of my best friends to share the dreams
Expressed in this disarming and duplicitous journalistic prose,
And then the next day when it became clear that the letter was false
Just as quickly repeated my efforts to inform all of the deceit.
I find myself now laughing at my own gullibility,
But rather pleased at the same time that so many shared my dreams.
If you find my disappointment in organized religion laughable,
Let me share finally by echoing “The Beatles” and say simply that,
“I hope someday you too will join us, and the world will be as one!”

Brian Johnston
June 26, 2015

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

This Perfect Day

Friday had been the saddest day
That my young life had ever known
The loneliness that my heart felt
Just would not leave me alone

The clouds that filled the afternoon
With their darkness and their dread
Left remorseful feelings alive inside
Along with feelings that seemed so dead

On Saturday when I did awaken
My world was much worse it seemed
For the gloom and darkness it embraced
Left my mind aloof in sad daydreams

Of what my eyes had seen to transpire
On that dark, cold Friday afternoon
I only prayed and hope what was written
Would come to fruition so very soon

As the last twenty four hours ticked away
The hope in my heart did begin to rise
For it began to beat so steady again
Waiting for the prophesied moment to arrive

But many in the room praying around me
Saw their faith begin to slip and fade
Not believing that what was happening
Would be much more than just another day

My heart awaiting the time to come closer
Anticipating the joy it would soon receive
Felt the rhythms of the approaching moment
For deep within it never failed to believe

I heard the most beautiful enchanting melodies
Embracing me from deep within His tomb
And upon hearing the hearty voices of angels
I sensed He would be rising so very soon

And the last twenty four hours did finally end
Sweeping my sadness and loneliness away
Replacing it with pure joy, and happiness
For He rose from the grave on a perfect day.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Stygian Doubts-The Catacombs of Saint Francis, Lima, Peru

The rottenness of it all is no less foul for having been bleached white. This is the conclusion I come to. I walk with a scarf covering my mouth through the dimly lit catacombs of the faithful. The arched ceiling holds a dangling string of incandescent bulbs which cast a sickly yellow glow on my shoes and the cavities full of thighbones. “Why are all the bones the same,” I ask. The guide smiles. “Tens of thousands of heaven seekers wish to be buried here. There’s only so much room,” he said. “Even today people pay for holy ground.” Ghostly, armless, rib-less, headless, specters seem to rise un-braced, oh the indignity of it all. I picture them searching for the missing parts of themselves. I sneeze through my paisley scarf, stumble back; back, following the arrows in reverse, seeking the way out; just as frantically as they had sought the way in. The rest of the group trudges on; after all, they had paid their coin to Charon.



First Published in Inwood Indiana January 2014

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

CRY THE BELOVED CONTENENT


     CRY THE BELOVED CONTINENT…
     (Apropos The Ripping Veil of Pan-Africanism)

In all her blackness
her soils run red
with the blood of her children

Whose bloated bellies
mock the pregnancy
of liberty

And her breasts
sag in union
with faces 
of hopeless hopefulness;

While hollowed eyes 
of mourners
gaze into the wholeness
of nothing---

Smiling death stalks
the narrowing corridors of
life---echoing souring laughs
to virgin wombs
screaming from the shadows
of the valley of death:

But believe brethren---
mock not the gods---
keep plodding;
for in the theism 
of this imposed dystopia, 
a wretched mother
tenaciously clings to time
and history.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE FLOOD

   



THE FLOOD…

		        And it shall come to past, when  I shall bring
                                    a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be
		       seen in the cloud…and the waters shall no 
                                   more become a flood to destroy…
		       

Memories are like tombstones:
Silent epitaphs of life.

We prepared well for the fire next time;
But the thunder came: wailing clouds
Released their sobbing tears

The crescendo passage of the river’s womb
Overflowed her loins; wetness
Saturating the helpless earth.

Stunned by the surge of the water’s fury,
We sandbagged hope; anchored by our faith,
we levied our destinies on the upper banks of time.

What sins had we forgotten to pray forgiveness for? 
How long had we cursed the drought?  Who Could stop the tears of God?

Cringing beneath the cloud, whining… 
We wiped away our tears; waiting on the crest.
In the tears of God; we waited on the dove: soaring

Skies; sailing in the mist of the bow’s rays;
Refracted by the savory tears of God.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The New Testament


The Word of Eternal God
Which is the power of Eternal God for salvation to everyone who has faith
Is set forth 
Displays its power in a most wonderful way in the writings of the New Testament
Which hand on the ultimate truth of Eternal God’s Revelation
Their central object is Jesus or Father Christ
Eternal God’s incarnate Son
His acts
Teachings
Mission and glorification 
His Church’s beginnings under the spirit’s guidance

The Gospels are the heart of all Scriptures
Because they are our principal source for the life 
Teaching of the incarnate Word
Our Savior

We can distinguish three stages in the formation of the Gospels

The life and teaching of Jesus or Father Christ
The Church holds firmly that the four Gospels
Whose historicity she unhesitatingly affirms
Faithfully hand on what Jesus
The Eternal Son of Eternal God
While He lived among men
Really did and taught for their salvation
Until the day when He was taken up

The oral tradition 
For
After the ascension of the Lord
The apostles  handed onto their hearers what they had said and done
But with fuller understanding which they
Instructed by the glorious events of Father Christ 
Enlightened by the spirit of truth
Now enjoyed

The written Gospels
The sacred authors
In writing the four gospels
Selected certain of the many elements which had been handed on
Either orally or already in written form
Others they senthesized or explained with an eye to the situation of the Churches
While sustaining the form of preaching
But always in such a fashion that they have told us the honest truth about Jesus

The fourfold Gospel holds a unique place in the Church
As is evident both in the veneration which the liturgy  accords it 
In surpassing attraction it has exercised on the saints at all times

There is no doctrine which could be better
More precious
More splendid than the text of the Gospel
Behold and retain what our Lord and Master
Father Christ
Has taught by His words and accomplished by His deeds

But above all it’s the Gospels that occupy my mind when I’m at prayer
My poor soul has so many needs
Yet this is the one thing needful
I’m always finding fresh lights there
Hidden and enthralling meanings

1242015

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Your Time Has Come (Prose Poetry)

Your time has come like the rising sun.  Stand up for life created by God’s love as 
the dove descends from above.  He has a plan for you to be one with Him as He 
is with you thus making you brand new.  Your life should be more than just the 
ordinary existence, let Him strengthen you as your soul runs the distance.  Be 
filled with His spirit and let your light shine.  Manifest His joyful glory and 
overcome obstacles in His name while unto Him you render an acclaim.  Move 
ahead and be the lighthouse of strength without relenting; thus ascending from 
the bottomless pit into His eternal light of creation. Experience the fullness of 
your destiny with God in the middle of your future.  Build your foundation in His 
word and spirit.  Empower your soul with His tenacity; He will determine your 
capacity.  Be anointed by His grace and experience the reality of not just a 
dream.  A light lit for living liturgy. He has you covered with His Holy Spirit.  Now 
step out—your time has come!


Comments:  A prose poem is written in prose form.  It does not have line breaks 
or varying topography as a regular poem. During the mid-nineteenth century, 
Charles Baudelaire published Petis poemes en prose.  Oscar Wilde, T.S Eliot 
and others have written in this genre.   The genre started in France and is now 
worldwide.  The use of concrete language and figurative speech such as 
imagery, rhymes, personification, contrast, simile, metaphor, alliteration, 
metonymy, synecdoche, abstraction and the like should be incorporated based 
on the desire of the poet. The piece may focus on language, a story, or 
something similar based on the choice of the poet.


Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Growth in understanding the faith


Thanks to the assistance of the Eternal Holy Spirit
The understanding of both the realities 
The words of the heritage of faith 
Able to grow in the life of the Church

Through the contemplation
Study of believers who ponder things in their hearts
Is in particular theological research which deepens knowledge of revealed truth

From intimate sense of spiritual realities which believers experience
The Sacred Scriptures grow with the one who reads them

From the teaching of those who have received
Along with their right of succession in the episcopate
The sure charism of truth

It is clear therefore that
In the supremely wise arrangement of EternalGod
SSacred tradition
Sacred Scripture
And the Magisterium of the Church are so connected
Associated
That one of them cannot stand without the others
Working together
Each in its own way
Under the action of the Eternal Holy Spirit
They all contribute effectively to the salvation of souls
1122015

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

ZINDAGI KA SAFAR

   ZINDAGI KA SAFAR
Zindagi wo nahi, JO Nazar Ati Hai Tum Ko
Yeh To Chalti Howi Sansoo Ka Safar Hoti Hai
Yeh To Bekiri Howi Yadoon Ka Mazhar Hoti Hai
Yeh To Totay Howay Lafzoon  Ka Nasar Hoti Hai
Zindagi!  To Naam Hai Us Insaneyat Ka
Jes Ki azmat Ka Yakin! Farashtoon Nay Sajday may Kiya
Zindagi! To paygham Hai Us Jazbay Ka
Jis Ka Safar Soraj Ki Kirnoo Say shuru Hota Hai
Zindagi, Us Katab Ki Manind Hai 
Jis Ka Unwaan !  Musafar Ki Akasi Karta hai
Zindagi To Kahani Hai Us Musafarat Ki     
 Jis Ki Manzil Soraj Kay goroob ! Honay Tek Hoti Hai
Zindagi To Naam Hai Us Rishtay Ka 
Jis Ka Raabta !  Rooh Or Jism Kay Darmiyan Hota Hai
Zindagi To Ahsaas Hai Us Mohabat Ka
Jis Ka Ahtamaam ! Khuda Nay Jannat Bana Kay Kiya
Yeh Wo Bewafa Hai Jo Khudi Kay Daway Kay Bawajood 
Khud Apnay Wojood Ko Pal may ! Tanha Kar deyti Hai Zindagi
Zindagi Salaam Ho Tuj Pay Kay Teri  Baqa Kay Leyeh
Qudarat Nay Shub-o-rooz Ko Sajaya Hai ! Zindagi Kay Leyeh
 
SHAISTA MANSOOR

Copyright © Shaista Mansoor | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Old Testament


It was apostolic tradition that the Church discerned writings
To be included in the list of Sacred Books
This complete list is called the canon Scripture
It includes 46 books for the Old Testament
45 if we account Jeremiah and Lamentations as one

The Old Testament is dispensable part of Sacred Scripture
Its books are divinely inspired and
Retain a permanent value
For the Old Covenant has never been revoked
Indeed
The economy of the Old Testament was deliberately so oriented
That it should prepare for and declare in prophecy in the coming of Father Christ
Redeemer of all men
Even though they contain matters imperfect and provisional
The books of the Old Testament
Bear witness to the divine pedagogy of Eternal God’s saving love
These writings are a storehouse of sublime teaching of Eternal God and
Of sound wisdom on human life
As well as a wonderful treasury of prayers
In them
Too
The mystery of our salvation is present in a hidden way


Christians venerate the Old Testament as true Word of Eternal God
The Church has always vigorously opposed
The idea of rejecting the Old Testament
Under the pretext that the New
Has rendered it void (Marcionism.

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

In Brief


What Father Christ entrusted to the apostles
In turn handed on by their preaching and writing
Under the inspiration of the Eternal Holy Spirit
To all generations
Until Father Christ return in glory

“Sacred Tradition and Sacred Scripture make up a single deposit of the Word of Eternal God”
In which
In a mirror
The pilgrim Church contemplates Eternal God
In her doctrine
Life and worship perpetuates
Transmits to every generation all that she herself is
All that she believes

Thanks to its supernatural sense of faith
The People of Eternal God as a whole never ceases to welcome
Penetrate more deeply
And to live more fully from the gift of divine Revelation

The task of interpreting the Word of Eternal God
AAuthentically been entrusted solely to the Magisterium of the Church
That is
To the Pope
The bishops in communion with Him

1182015

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Faith and understanding


What moves us to believe is not the fact that revealed truths 
Appear as true and intelligible in the light of our natural reason
We believe because the authority of Eternal God Himself who reveals them
Who can neither deceive nor be deceived
So that the submission of our faith nevertheless be in accordance with reason
Eternal God willed that external proofs of his Revelation
Should be joined to the internal help of the Eternal Holy Spirit
Thus the miracles of Father Christ and the saints
Prophecies
The Church’s growth and holiness
Her fruitfulness and stability are the most certain signs of divine Revelation
Adapted to the intelligence of fall
They are motives of credibility
Which show that the assent of faith is by no means a blind impulse of the mind

Faith is certain
It is certain than all human knowledge 
Because it is founded at the very word of Eternal God who cannot lie
To be sure
Revealed truths can seem obscure to human reason and experience
But
The certainty that the divine light gives is  greater than that
Which the light of natural reason gives
Ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt

Faith seeks understanding 
It is intrinsic to faith that a believer desires to know better
The One in whom he has put his faith
To understand better what He has revealed
A more penetrating knowledge will in turn call forth a greater faith
Increasingly set afire by love
The grace of faith opens the eyes of our hearts
To a lively understanding of the contents of Revelation
That is
Of the reality of Eternal God’s plan and the mysteries of faith
Of their connection with each other with Father Christ
The center of the revealed mystery
The same Eternal Holy Spirit constantly perfects faith by his gifts
So that Revelation may be more and more profoundly understood
In the words of St. Augustine
I believe
In order to understand 
And I understand 
The better to believe
Or can truth ever contradict truth
Consequently
Methodical research in all branches of knowledge
Provided it is carried out in a truly scientific manner
Does not override moral laws
Can never conflict with the faith
Because the things of the world 
The things of faith derive from the same Eternal God
The humble and persevering investigator of the secrets of nature is being led
As it were
By the hand of Eternal God in spite of Himself
For it is Eternal God 
The conserver of all things
Who made them what they are

1252015

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The senses of Scripture


According to an ancient tradition
One can distinguish between two senses of Scripture
The literal and spiritual
The latter being subdivided into
Allegorical
Moral and 
Anagogical senses

The profound concordance of the four senses
Guarantees all its richness to the living reading of Scripture in the Church

The literal sense is the meaning conveyed by the words of Scripture
And discovered byexegesis
Following the rules of sound interpretation
All other senses of Sacred Scripture are based on the literal

The spiritual sense
Thanks to the unity of Eternal God’s plan
Not only the text of Scripture 
But also the realities and
Events
About which it speaks can be signs

The allegorical sense
We can acquire a more profound understanding of events
By recognizing the significance in Father Christ
Thus the crossing of the Red sea
Is a sign or type of Father Christ’s victory
And also of Christian baptism

The moral sense
Events reported in Scripture ought  to lead us justly
As St. Paul says
They were written for our instruction

The anagogical sense
We can view realities and
Events in terms of their eternal significance
Leading us toward our true homeland
Thus the Church on earth is a sign of the heavenly Jerusalem

A medieval couplet summarizes the  significance of the four senses
The letter speaks of deeds; Allegory to faith
The moral how to act; Anagogy our destiny

It is the task of exegetes to work
According to these rules
Toward a better understanding and
Explanation of the meaning of Sacred Scripture
In order that their research may help the Church to form firmer judgment

1232015 

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What is commitment?

Commitment is ….. beautiful when you love somebody. 
Commitment is giving something greater than yourself.  

It is:
A promise: To  Assure, Guarantee, Swear, Agree, Secure, Give your word
 
A pledge: A Promise, Oath, Word of honor

A vow: To  Be determined, Declare, Undertake, Assert

It is: 
Assurance, Dedication, Loyalty, Devotion, Steadfastness, Allegiance, 
Faithfulness, Duty, Responsibility, Obligation

If, to the one you love, you cannot give commitment, then you have nothing to give.

God committed Himself to us, He gave of Himself, He gave Jesus.  
Jesus then gave His All to us, He held nothing back.  
He took the cross that was due us.

Was that commitment?    I’d say it was … it was the Ultimate commitment!

Copyright © Bev Edwards - Walther | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fishing

I grabbed my fishing pole and all the fishing lures I thought I would need.  Now, I’m on my way to fish for my daily meal.
	When I got to the waterfront, there were no fish for me to catch.  I was disappointed, so I decided to sit down and think.
	While sitting there thinking, a man came over to me.  He ask, why are you just sitting here with your fishing pole and lures?
	I told the man coming here was a big mistake, so, I’m sitting here because there are no fish for me to catch.
	The man said follow me, I’ll take you to a place where you can fish, you won’t need your fishing pole or your lures and you won’t have any regrets.
	I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I followed him anyway to see what was his plan.
	He took me to a place where a crowd of people had gathered.  I said to him, there is no water so how can I fish, what can I hope to catch.
	I said to myself, I’ll never catch any fish because too may people are here, so now my hope had been totally shattered.
	He said listen to what I  say, then you will understand why I brought you to this place.
	He stood in front of the crowd and he started to speak.  His voice was soft and gentle, like sweet honey to a bee.
	He spoke of love, kindness, forgiveness and many other wonderful thing.  I forgot about wanting to catch fish for me to eat.
	He keep talking and I started to understand.  He wanted me to fish for lost souls, so I can teach them about God’s holy plan. 
	I’m no longer a fisherman for creatures of the sea.  I am a fisherman for the Lord, that was His ultimate plan for me.

Copyright © ROSALYN LAMPKIN | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Inspiration and Truth of Sacred Scripture


Eternal God is the author of Sacred Scripture
The divinely revealed realities
Which are contained
Presented in the text of Sacred Scripture
Have been written down under the inspiration of Eternal Holy Spirit
They have Eternal God as their author
Have been handed on as such to the Church herself

Eternal God inspired the human authors of the Sacred books
To compose the sacred books
Eternal God chose men who
All the faculties
Powers
So that
Though he acted in them
By them
It was true authors that they consigned to writing
Whatever he wanted written
No more

The inspired books teach the truth
Since therefore all that the inspired authors
Or
Sacred writers affirm should be regarded as affirmed by the Eternal Holy Spirit
We must acknowledge that the books of Scripture firmly
Faithfully
Without error teach that truth which Eternal God 
For the sake of our salvation
Wished to see confided to the Sacred Scriptures

Still
The Christian faith is not a religion of book
Christianity is the religion of the “Word” of Eternal God
A word which is not written
Mute Word
But the Word which is incarnate
Living
If the Scriptures are not to remain a dead letter
Father Christ
The eternal Word of the living Eternal God
Must
Through the Eternal Holy Spirit
Open our minds to understand the Scriptures

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Master Carpenters tree

The impressive mighty trees
Are birthed from such small seed
Drawing resilience from the sun
And earth’s fertile garden bed

Trees wooden trunk has shaped 
And sustained for centuries many in varied ways 
Some over and upon oceans wide
Where waves stroke shapely hulls 
And lull to sleep the hapless venturer 
Trusting in woods durable strength and buoyancy

And from such crafted boughs 
And whispered sounds 
Her meekness and strength is seen and heard 
Like the creaks of grandma’s rocking chair
Where the hapless wanderer was first rocked to sleep

Trees have cradled and rocked in their arms 
High and low of this world
The greatest of these was in a lowly manger 
In an animals crib 
But for this one tree its destiny was marked 
Chosen before time

For on this tree’s wooden shoulders 
It bore God’s greatest gift–
A Holy Child born - Like it- 
For one purpose only – 
To become accursed - on its wooden cross 
To bear the sins of All 
The Holy Son then rose - triumphantly from earth’s fertile soil

Into His Father’s arms


© Brenda V Northeast 11th   March   2012
 

Copyright © Brenda Victoria Northeast | Year Posted 2012