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Prose Poetry God Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About God

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

IF GOD GIVES UP ON US

Open season
the games have begun
We be target practice
Shoot randomly 
no penalty

Kill at will
...if you will
Lives don't
matter to the people
you're chanting to

Kill for thrill  
new sport
Kill at will
...if you think
Lives matter 
watch the gavel...
justice not served

Makes no difference
if they get sacked
Big money got their backs
Now who has that kind if cash ?

Thumb twiddlers, sitting down
eyes watching God's moves
"God's gonna get them people"
That is what God said: He also
 said: "faith without works is dead'

Earth disturbers in combat boots
Serial killers with badges in blue suits
commissioned for this mission
rewarded with loot.

The makers of tragedies  on 9/11
twin towers. Afghanistan and 
the embassy in Kenya ..World Trade
Center and the list goes on..
By the way who's funding BOko Haram?
They have better weapons than the whole
Naja Militia.

Desensitized people, frightened and numb
Worldwide genocide irrespective of person
religion or gender.
When bombs go off, bodies drop 
buildings fall down.
What if the grid breaks?
What if he does not re-create 
anyone smart enough to fix it.?

Those people who one day 
gets paid, to kill those people, 
Who pays you to kill them people
and them people to kill you....

Somebody is paying people, 
to make less people
and paying people - 
to make less people etc...
until there is less people. 
Only the people on the left, 
are left.
And the leftover people. 

Then no more people left.
and the green grass grew all aroun all aroun ....
and the green grass grew all aroun

IF God Gives Up ON US...

What might he do, send us back into the 
black hole.Take the power back from the Sun?

Reverse the magnetic magnitude of the moon
There'll be no separation of day from
night, there'd be no more chances to get life right. 

If God gives up on us it would
serve us deserving. No intercession
for your transgressions.

Just send us back into oblivion;
Erase us like we had never come.?
Dauntless disobedience, and foul
acts mocking his earthly domain
Diverging from Gods plan
Ignoring truth, man abusing man.

What if God would wait
one million years before 
he launched another plan
and like the dinosaurs
we'd be - Just another species 
from ancient times and lands.

What if God gave up on us....

and sent us back into the 
dust, and the only memories 
left, would be the writings
in ancient books..
Ancient books no-one could decipher.

...and the green grass grew all aroun all aroun
and the green 

ghttp://www.addictinginfo.org/2015/01/20/black-homeless-man-sleeping-when-he-was-set-on-fire-by-white-teens-video/

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My God on Earth: My Mother

A heart that cries more than me 
in my pain. 
Whose congenial and benign teachings 
make me sane. 
A warm touch that dispels from me 
the gales of worry. 
Whose proximity ensures me that I'm 
protected by her under furry. 
A helping hand that always hold me 
whenever I'm about to lose. 
& my first teacher who makes me to 
distinguish between donts' and dos'. 
A voice and nothing more, an Angel 
who is entirely mine just after my birth. 
And she is none other but 'My Mother', 
The God on Earth. 
  
Although to define her in words is 
beyond my skill. 
Nevertheless I can say that her pace in 
my life, none can fill. 
She is the one who needs not a single 
word of me to understand. 
In my devastation, she is always there 
to provide effusively her hand. 
In the weariness of my life, with her, 
I may lose to be in link. 
But she ever remembers me whenever I 
breathe or my eyes blink. 
I can say that in search of heaven, 
I needn't to go anywhere. 
I would like to put my head in my 
mother's lap, as its only there.. 

Copyright © Hina Saxena | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE CHOICE

THE CHOICE

HE WAS asleep
Between space and time
The first light on the world
Floated idly
On him
He was just born.

His folded hands
Glowed a pale pink
To keep the fire of life
He wondered if he was really awake.
Is it the true world?
Is it the true village?
Is it the true nest?
He kept kicking
And cried like a scared owl.

God trod to the next village.

Best of 2014 - Poetry Contest
Sponsor	Carol Eastman

from BIRTH FANTASY FAIRY CATS AND EVENINGS
Written on 8/20/2014	 
Poet: RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY

Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

OH MY GOD

OH MY GOD!!!

Assemble all the gods we’ve built,
stand them in a line, then walk along
the corridor and ponder which is yours,
which is mine?  Dragons, stoics, satyrs,
saints, all stony faced with colored paints.
Some in regal pompous robes others missing
all their clothes.  Fierce and sullen, sour faced
one look to put you in your place, kind and
gentle, bended knee promising to set you free.
Ogre sneers on giant cats, fat and sassy spoiled brats.
These are the gods we have created.
Thank God they never met - and mated.


John G. Lawless

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Oh God When I die

                                                 Oh God When I Die

                                      Oh God when I die please let me,
                                      See the sin's from past reality,
                                      And if my deeds out wiegh bad,
                                      Then let my soul feel glad.

                                      And if I die from a lier's shame,
                                      Please allow my shameful name,
                                      To be among the forgiven with pride,
                                      Knowing your grace has given me a guide 

                                      From death to light le me see,
                                      That eternity is my reward from thee,
                                      And infinite love of peace from you,
                                      For your promise is eternaly true.

Copyright © Michael S. Johnson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

GOD NEEDS A GREEN CARD

God had a green card
But cannot get back in the gate.
The Bricks are thick 
But not so tall, I think
God may need to scale the wall.

Are we safe in structures gated
Must we stay in this prison
Where women are hated.
Our bones are hidden in tunnels.

Where has my mother gone
My sisters have disappeared, been
Abducted into a cult; Suspicious
Disinterest displays their guilt.

There has been nothing to report.
Maybe she has run away
To find a new God, Someone has
Touched her, she was not safe there
In her own bed, in her own home.

Some Blackman- Chanted hate lyrics
At her; Encouraged by their overseers.
Asian cultist cursed her in the womb.
In India they ostracized and brutalized 
Her melanin, Queen of England, a 
Voyeur, watches through syphilic 
Eyes without concern.

Beautiful cocoa,vanilla, and mustard
Babies sold or married off to smelly 
suitors for sex, before puberty; mere
Children, march and are showcased
For the wicked pleasures of men. 
But should I call them men?

Remember we once ruled this planet
Remember once we bore your beloved sons, 
Now we work and twerk our bodies
As we answer to your perversions 
We no longer dance to bring rain.
We slide down poles reluctantly 
Displaying our pain.

My mother is crying for me
My sister's are crying for me.  
God will ignite the lamp of justice
God now has her green card and shall 
Return us "Back to our Spiritual selves.

We dared not become too ripe, though 
We must remain agile or we be thrown away 
Like rotten fruit, never to be seen again

God now has her green card and 
Will return us back to our Spiritual State. 
Once again - You shall call us "Heaven".

Woman, who created man in her womb..
Became the enemy of man, and has been cast off. 
We cannot testify with ovaries or inverted testicles.

Soon there was no natural preference 
No perspective of gender has man !
Procreation ceased,the uterus forever 
Banned to bear ovarian fruit. 
We who remain alive wait.

Awaiting a Foreign God who's eager to 
Receive her green card, and save us from our fate.
From the hands of a wicked system 
We are doused in the agony of acid
Women perish, For the mercy of death we pray.

My mother is crying for me
My sisters are crying for me. 
God will again ignite the lamp of justice
God now has her green card;
And shall return us to our spiritual state.

Remember we once ruled this planet,
We bore your unloved seeds, who 
You've turned against us; We shall
Return them unto our bosoms....And
Once again, you shall call us " Heaven" !


© Vicki Acquah

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Day the Doctor Told Me

On the day
When the doctor told me 
My whole heart crushed 
Melting like snow in summertime
Leaving me to wonder 
Was this moment 
My realty 
A fantasy 
Cause even though I don’t go to church 
Every Sunday 
I knew God wouldn’t plague me 
With a curse such as this 
I was too young to die 
Carry an illness which could 
Define me 
Would I make it 
Is there a cure 
Cause the way he was telling me 
My diagnosis and deterioration 
I wasn’t so sure 
So instead of making this a life sentence 
My death penalty 
I chose to live another day 
Not allowing this moment to end my dignity
I knew my life wasn’t destined to end this way 

The day the doctor told me 
I was a victim to Cancer
I gave the message to God 
Allowing him to solve the problem
Provide the answer
Only he could to clear my vision 
Cause at this time
Everything was a blur
I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop 
I knew he wasn’t done with me yet
I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel 
Take a seat, swivel away
Let my coffin bow down a whole 6 feet

The day the doctor told me 
Not only did I take heed to what he said
I believed in what wasn’t note
Understanding I had a chance 
It wouldn’t be circumstances
Used to close the book to my story 
But the reason to live and be loved 
To achieve all I ever dreamed of 

The day the doctor told me 
I had Cancer 
I simply replied, “No, I do not” 
I have life 
A life not complete, nor finished 
And after 7 years of living 
I am wiser, smarter, healthier and determined 
Not to let this Cancer make me a victim 
But claim my place in David’s army
Nothing will happen to he who believes
And guess what
I’m a Survivor, I’m Here, and until My God is ready
I am not going anywhere!!!!!


 

Copyright © Charron Monaye | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

God And Woman

God And Woman

I did not want anything from The Almighty
Sacrificed untouchable realization
Which is symbol of myself
And dedicated emotions, silence.

I did not demand anything from the woman
Allowed her into the corner of my mind
Which is the center of bleeding
And presented my intuition.

The Almighty and the woman repeatedly call
Destruction in my lonely life
It's the ability to do more by them...


SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

Copyright © Sandip Goswami | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

STRONG WOMAN

Strong woman
That woman 
Who tears behind the mirror? 
Made me who I am 
My hardened heart she took
Tenderized it with love
Took my salty tears 
Turned into joyful tears

That woman 
Who sighs behind the mirror 
Sighs in memory
Memories and feelings
Hardships she went through 
To feed my whole stomach

That woman
The woman pulling back her mucors
Does so in fear
Fear that ill not be what she hoped
That teared woman 
Crys in fast and prayer 
Crys for my dark self 
Cries for my future 

That woman crying 
Tears down her body fluids
Hopefully that her anger and disappointments
May atleast flow out with them
Her body almost running dry by now
That woman calls upon God
GOD atleast make him better
That woman cries for me 
That woman cries for her lineage
That woman cries night and day

How I came to be 
To be what I am 
I don’t know how
A slave of the world
A slave with one work song 
A song entitled failure 
The first stanza of calamity
The last stanza dead man where I am heading





Looking at her cry 
Twists my brains 
Is this what I am?
Is this my purpose to the world? 
Is this the man the world wants? 
Is this what God spent time Molding 
Is this what the bible describes? 
Just for her 
Just for her I take my life back 
Just for her God I stand strong 
Just for her I say no
NO no no this is not me 

Come mummy take this handkerchief 
I don’t wannna see those tears again
I love you mummy

Copyright © FRANCIS NZIOKI | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Shall Wait On You

As my day slowly comes to an end
When it seems my strength is gone
As the hours seem to pass by slowly
When all I try just seems so wrong

Within my heart I seek inspiring words
A psalm that will lift my spirit high
For so often when I feel this tired
Even on my bed I have no desire to lie

I reach within my soul for divine energy
I seek with my inner voice to deeply pray
Finding I have such a great need of You
For Your soothing spirit to come my way

And as I pray silently and so sweetly
While I also gently embrace Your name
I find I shall always wait on You Lord
Knowing my happiness I will again regain

For You are the great power which saves me
The blessed assurance my heart only knows
And happily Lord I will always wait on You
Because with all my heart I love You so.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Gods and Devils

Gods and Devils

And on the saddest day,
“Men” created “Gods”
bestowing upon them
the power to terrorize “men”,
reduce them to subservience, servitude.

“Men” worshipped these “Gods”,
begged them for fulfillment, forgiveness,
petitioned them for mercy.
Blamed the “Gods” for all things
good and bad, holy or evil,
for all that happens is
“the will of the “Gods”.”

“Men” fear their own “Gods”.
Cower silently, heads bowed, as those
who “represent the Gods” pass -
Grovel before the power of an
unseen “God” – before a “Man”.

The “Gods” created “Devils”
as a defense against the “Men”
who created the “Gods”.  Declared
that all who questioned the
validity of the “Gods”, and their
powers, were -  “Devils” -
therefore a manifestation of “Evil”.

Thus, the “Gods” and “Devils”
created by “Man” have conspired
to hold “Man” hostage, to punish
“Man” for having the audacity
to create such “Gods” and allowing
these “Gods” to create such “Devils”.


1/7/2015

Submitted to – Gods and Devils – Poetry contest

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Love I've Waited For

Bless me with your
presence, with the 
tenderness of your
love...

Bless me with your
radiant joy, for you
are all I do think
of...

Bless me with the 
happiness which only 
you alone can bring...

Bless me with the
peaceful bliss which
causes my heart to
sing...

And in the morning
as I rise, the
prayer I will pray
to you...

Will tell you Lord
how deep my love is 
and how it will always
remain so true.
 

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Christ Child

In eternity past, the Father asks the Son to go down.
Having equal Love for humans the "Yes" comes fast.
When Creation leads to time, the world waits for 4 BC
Marking the start of the end of Satan's long rule at last.

Did Satan laugh at the poor setting for Jesus' birth here?
A cry in a cave for animals pierces the night, changing all.
Shepherds worship; later wise kings give precious gifts.
Mary and Joseph marvel, yet Herod's rage soon gives a call.

A call to leave quickly to Egypt where they'll live as refugees.
Sparing the Christ child a merciless death of those under three.
When Herod finally dies, Jesus' parents head back to Israel.
Still not fully safe from mad rule, Nazareth is their destiny.

Here the child will grow to be a man, following His parents rule.
Surprising the Pharisees with His wisdom at 12, at 30 riling them.
Preaching with authority, healing the incurable, loving the humble.
Women weep repenting at his feet; one's healed by touching his hem.

Zacchaeus risks going into a tree and finds Jesus' salvation so free.
Nicodemus comes at night to ask and ends amazed he's met God's Son
The Woman at the Well gets far more vital water than the usual kind.
And many healed can't but tell others of the miracle God has done.

The babe in the manger now stills the storm and his disciples believe
Even seeing the dead arise, like Lazarus in the tomb for four days.
Foretelling a greater rising coming but not before immense suffering.
The sword Mary was told would pierce her heart is soon on its way.

For most religious leaders cannot tolerate Jesus' lack of respect for them.
Calling them whitewashed tombs and pointing pride out to Pharisees.
Not endearing Himself with the establishment, but following God's way.
Knowing soon He'd be betrayed, arrested, tried and tortured brutally.

Still, he calmly feeds them body bread and blood wine in a final feast.
Tells them the Spirit comes, and prays they'd be one like Father and Son.
Heads to the Garden, prays to His Father for another way if possible.
Your will be done ends and the soldiers come and with Judas kiss it's done.

The most pure, innocent Man who's ever lived is now in hostile hands.
A trial by dark without witness or any rights – and off to Pontius Pilate.
Then Herod then back to Pilate whose wife dreamed Jesus was innocent.
But the people's cries to crucify win over – Jesus caught in intrigue's net.

The child of Bethlehem now hung on a Cross between two criminals.
The Light of the World by darkness and our sins is being slowly slain.
Feeling forsaken by God, but then "Into Your hands I commit my spirit."
Reunited and soon to show the world that this Child was no ordinary one.

Risen as Jesus predicted, for how can death conquer everlasting, perfect life?
From childhood to adult not one sin, not once yielding to Satan's temptations.
Proving we can have life eternal if we confess and believe in Jesus as our Savior.
Calling His followers in risen form to await the Spirit and share Christ to the nations

Copyright © Scott Bronner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thread of Hope

As all I’d ever termed wondrous bliss unexpectedly died -
As my fantasy of a reality with destruction did collide -
My hopes shattered around me like glass in countless pieces,
Fragments suspended in mocking beauty as time freezes…

The clock hand ticks forward and it all crashes to the floor
My knees hit rock-bottom when I could take no more
All I now see is blackness where once there was color
Gone appears the light from the sun and its fervor…

I begin to walk away from the pond of shattered dreams
But the glass is in my clothes and cutting through my heart, it seems
Perhaps I am too close, the smoke is clouding my full view-
Glance up at the tower, instinctively know what to do…

Run up the steps; one, two,three hundred endless stairs
And I barely catch my breath, or have time to fill lungs with air -
Before the ground beneath my feet crumbles into sand
Loud thunder above me rumbles as I fall back down on land…

And I hit rock-bottom again
Thinking this must be the end
For surely no human can go through this pain
And still see rainbows through the rain…

The whole world seems gray and black tonight
With not a speck of pure, identifiable white in sight
Nothing is untouched, gone is everything -
Then how do I glimpse in that crack a thin white string?

Among the dirt, surely this uncorrupted clean string is not real
But just to verify the hopeless doubts, I reach out a hand to feel
And to my electric surprise, it’s most tangible indeed
I yank it out attached to a note, uncrumple it and read:

“Verily, with every hardship comes ease” [Quran 94:6]

That white thread...
Of hope.

Copyright © Aya Salah | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

GOD, I Need Your Grace Today

God I need your Grace today. To lead me to guide to show me the way. It;s through my Lord Jesus, that Heavenly Father I pray and ask for your Grace today. As I walk in this world of uncertainty and fear, your Heavenly voice I need to hear.

To stop my mumbling, my stumbling and my short comings. To know when to open my mouth and know what to say, how to use my words and how to pray, so I again, I ask you God for your Grace today. It's through you Lord Jesus that my way has been sealed because By Your Stripes We Are Healed. Is.53:5.

And by your Grace I get complete relief, but I need you also Lord Help My Unbelief. Mark.9:24. To stand confident, tall and strong for by your Heavenly grace I know I can't go wrong, cause in this world of violence and when I don't feel safe, I can pray to you Lord and you will increase my Faith.

Because this life can be a real struggle, so I can pray again and you will keep me out of trouble. For every day that I am put to the test, It's by your Grace that I can over come and enter into your rest. It's through you Lord Jesus that my Blessing are coming like a flood.

It's because I've been redeemed by your Precious Blood. So I ask you Father for your Grace today and it's through my Lord Jesus Christ, that Heavenly Father you have made the way. Thanh You Again... AMEN.

Inspired By Joyce Meyer.


Copyright © Milton Robertson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hope You Know My Name Part Two

He has so many names and there is so much confusion, 
I'm not sure I kow them all but here are a few.

The Word of God (rev. 19:1-16) 
The Word of Life  (1 John 1:1-3) (1 John 1-3)
The Alpha and The Omega (rev. 1:8) (rev. 22:13)
The Bright and Morning Star  (rev. 22:16)
Messiah   (Daniel 9:25) (1 John 1:41)
Lamb of God  (1 John 1:29)
King of Kings and Lord of Lords  (rev. 19:16)
The Chief Corner Stone  (1 John 20:17) (1 Peter 2:6) (Matthew 21:42)
Man of Sorrows  (Isaiah 53:3)
Rod from the Stem of Jessee  (Isaiah 11:10)
Holy One of Israel  (Isaiah 55:5)

I am sure there are so many more that fit 
fit the purpose. I would appreciate it if you
would like to collaborate I'm sure you know
some that are new, jump in if you would Please?

Copyright © Jack Ross jr. | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Armaggedon

#1. Armaggedon is not a geographical
location. The battle goes on within us
between the will or ego and the spirit. 
Divinity lives within this battlefield in 
our heart and souls. 

#2. Armaggedon is not a remote event in history 
but an occasion for the Self to connect more fully 
to the nature of Divinity which  resides both within
and beyond the self in three different ways.

#3. Armaggedon. The Self is the creation of God. 
The serial disasters that humanity accumulates
in our lives are not from an All Powerful God 
handing out retribution or revenge or indifference. 
Divinity promotes that love is primary. 

#4. Armaggedon is an opportunity to realize the
personality of God within our own lives.
Justice, wisdom, love, knowledge, thoughts,
feelings and behavior, except for evil, are aspects 
of the personality of God. It is our responsibility 
to merge with Divinity more fully to strengthen
those aspects of divinity within ourselves.

#5. Armaggedon is not a place outside of us, 
it is a symbol of our faith. Being a child of God
means you already have the inherent qualities 
of God within you, we all do, no matter what 
religion. Like a mother who gives birth to a child, 
the child has aspects of the mother’s personality
within her. Thus, as God has given birth to us all, 
we have attributes of Divinity within that we 
need to grow and strengthen. 

#6. Armaggedon. The fever is already raging.
in a war that surpasses all wars and that is
alive within us on a daily basis. This war
holds the souls weight of my loyalty
toward or away from love, the primary aspect
of God.

Copyright © julie heckman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Gift Of Heavenly Love

My heart awakens each day with a psalm,
Which I will joyfully recite for my King.
A psalm of pure love, a psalm of praise,
Because the Lord means everything to me.

And on my knees I happily speak the words,
Bowing down before his heavenly throne.
Lovingly he accepts what is spoken by lips,
For he knows their melodies are never done.

He saved me from sin’s deep darkened pit,
And from sinking into its tormented hell.
He gave his life as a ransom for me,
And now my heart each day must tell.

Of his goodness, his love, and tender mercies,
How his loving grace has set me forever free.
For he saved a lowly sinner from certain death,
Giving me his blessing of life I surely need.

And that is why my heart will tell the world
About the precious salvation he alone brings
For he is more valuable than even my own life
Because he means more than this world to me.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A running chestnut or no - on essay,idiocracy

Altogether unprofitable sentimental but no fool they call him an old sap 		        The taste of knowledge to him is sweet to get more valuable than sap to a tree	   even more valuable than the gold that runs from seven hills					 prolongs the days: but the years of the wicked shall be shortened.				  The Lord does hate pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth         the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom with an expected end pure love                  as God gives the increase I have tasted the Lord is gracious				           A strong warning from the savior Jesus He is Lord						   whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire                                      some may say the old sage is just saber rattling 					             Essayage the shoe on the other foot walking a mile				                   in someone else shoes who has two left feet and one leg longer				          truly your feet are bound to get sore circling around the mountain 	 			    just assaying the metal who is your maker I know mine 					         For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, 						        works for us a far more exceeding eternal weight of glory						 I am not straining gnats just spitting out the the filthy camel 				      Love the Lord God Jesus and every man your neighbor                             all the glory of man as the flower of grass like sagebrush					     God made foolish the wisdom of this world                				put your faith and hope in God and not in men 								 though man's urban inflections change the Word of the Lord stands sure                       Everlasting superior are God's ways than man's momentary dullness

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

THREE IN ONE

Father God,
The Omnescient One,
The Alpha and The Omega.
Almighty, Powerful, Unfathomable Love.
The Head of The Holy Trinity.

Jesus, The Son,
Love Incarnate.
Son of God, Son of Man,
Savior and Friend.
The Lamb of God is He.

Holy Spirit,
The Light and the Essence,
Of God The Father, Himself.
Convictor, Teacher,
Seeker of Souls,
Sent to comfort you and me.

Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
There's three in one, you see,
And we are created in His image,
So again there's one in three.

Body, Soul and Spirit too,
Again there's three in one.
He said,"We'll make him in Our own image,
And to teach him I'll send My Son."


"I AM THE 'A' AND THE 'Z' , THE BEGINNING AND THE END OF ALL THINGS, SAYS GOD, WHO IS THE LORD. THE ALL POWERFUL ONE WHO IS AND WAS AND IS COMING AGAIN."
                                                                                                  Rev. 1:6

"ONE DAY AFTER THE CROWDS HAD BEEN BEEN BAPTIZED JESUS, HIMSELF WAS BAPTIZED AND AS HE WAS PRAYING THE HEAVENS OPENED AND THE HOLY SPIRIT IN THE FORM OF A DOVE SETTLED UPON HIM AND A VOICE FROM HEAVEN SAID,'YOU ARE MY BELOVED  SON IN WHOM I AM WELL PLEASED."
                                                      Luke 4:21-23

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

TRUST IN GOD

                              TRUST IN GOD 
WO RAATOO KO UT KAR AKSAR   
         APNAY  RAB  SAY  SHIKAYAT  KARTA  THA 
UNDA - E - ZAY  AHTEYJAAJ  KO  WO  
           LAMHEY  SHIKAYAT  KEHTA  THA
NADAAN  NASAMAJ  PAGAL  DEEWANA  
          HALAAT  KI  GARDISH  KA  ILZAAM  
                           WO  APNAY  RAB  KO  DIYA  KARTA  THA
EK  DIN ALLAH  KO  JOSH  AYA
      TAQDEER  KO  US NAY  BADAL  HI  DALA
                AP  WO  RAATOO  KO  UT  KAR  
                            ROZ !  SUJDAY KIA KARTA HAY
SHUKRAY KUDA KAY NAM PAR
          HAR ROZ ROHYA KARTA HAY
                US KI TAKRAR MAY US KAY AITAJAAJ MAY
                       EK YAQEEN KA RANG THA, EK UMEED KA DUNG THA
ALLAH  KO  YEH  SAB  PASAND  AYA  
            BOLA!  JA  TUJH  KO  MAY  NAY  NAWAZ  DIYA  
                       JO  MANGTA  HAY    MANG
                           JO  KEHTA  HAI  KHAY
                                          KAY  MAY  RAZI  HOON  TUJH  SAY  BAHUT  
                                                          KUN  KAY  MAY  HI  TERA  KHUDA  HOON 
WRITTEN BY SHAISTA MANSOOR                       

Copyright © Shaista Mansoor | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Satisfied

My spirit is satisfied with with what it sees
Each day when I find myself to rise 
For my soul and spirit rise in harmony
Within the beautiful emotions I feel inside

For what I find to embrace each morning
Brings my heart to sing a song of praise
To the One who has blessed me with the gift
Of the life breath He has passed my way

Serene are the many lovely thoughts
Which daily brings soft smiles alive
When I feel the embrace of my Gods love
As his presence fills all aspects of my life

Tranquil are the thoughts and daydreams
That soothingly enter into my mind
Like water finding its way to a stream
While nourishing my spirit deep inside

For my heart will always be truly satisfied
Each day as I awaken my eyes to You
Because I find it to be a priceless blessing
As I breathe again embracing a love so true.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Listen To Your Love

I listen as your love  speaks out to me,
Each morning when I am allowed to rise.
Finding at that time I am assured Lord,
Your love will always be by my side.

My spirit finds peace early in the morning,
During the special quiet times we share.
My heart is ever thankful for the chance,
When my spirit finds your love so near.

My heart listens to your captivating whisper,
Which each morning sets my passion to flame.
As I rise early each day to humbly greet you,
Knowing again my life will never be the same.

My heart always begins to beat a little faster,
As my lungs each day continue to softly breathe.
I wait within your sweet tender embrace of love, 
Attentively listening while your love speaks to me. 

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What Songs

What songs shall find new life within me
When the darkness softly embraces the sky 
As the sun runs it course into the ocean
While like a master painter he fills my eyes
 
With the beauty of another very lovely sunset
Whose spiritual rhythms softly soothe my soul
While massaging my heart with his tender caress
Leaving on its walls many sweet memories of gold

He brings my heart within to dance vibrantly   
Full of his love's most radiant lasting kiss
Joyfully reminding me when tomorrow comes
I will be filled again with its loveliness

Which he spent the night away from me preparing
The most breathtaking scene one can ever find
So when I open my eyes to greet the new dawning
I will be embraced lovingly by a treasure divine.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Today God Asked

do you love her?
cant you see it in my tearfull eyes
and when i am angry
what hurts me inside
what are my worries 
and why do i cry
why cant i just forget the things
i want to hide from my pride
what are these prayers
while walking and wondering
why do i suffer 
from yearning and longing
as if grief is not enough

why is it that i refuse 
to be comforted by anyone else
why do i feel so sorry for myself
no one seems to know my pain
nor does the one i love
when my voice should make it so plain
it doesn't have a choice
it can feel her name
is it a greater sin to covet
what i wish i had
and is blaming God, all together bad
why am i constantly reminded
that it is time to let go
yet hoping, always for an open door
and while i suffer all these pains
i never know if they are for loss or gain
when or if they will ever end
or do they just come again and again
do i love her?!!!

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lord God

Halleluya!halleluy!
This is a shout of joy and happiness
Both streaming from my soul
Like waters from the mountains.
I open my mouth,recite and sing of his greatness,
His doings,are so much that I cant even tell
 I can only lift my hands up,open my mouth to say,
Thankyou Jesus

Many said that  I could not make it
And for a moment I thought they were right
But He proved them all wrong.
He is not mocked and His thoughts are far beyound our thoughts
He is a father to all and a provider to all,
And above all He reigns forever,
I can only lift my hands up,open my mouth to say ,
thankyou Jesus

Don't look down ipon yourself,
But lift your eyes unto Him
Let Him know of your desires and He will grant you.
He is a true friend,and will always be there for you.
He is a guider to thr lost and a counsel to all.
I can only lift my hands up, open my mouth to say
Thankyou Jesus.

What can I say?
He is beyound description,
And am lost of words to write ,
But ,I can only live to tell of His works
Lifting my hands up,opening my mouth i say,
 thankyou Jesus

Copyright © wamaitha beth | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Deaamos Passage

Deamoo’s Passage – Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada

Little Bee, Deaamo, lies in her parting dress; a shade of herself ghosts.
One moment she’s bright eyed, the next she’s as blank as black-stone.
The frigid forest mirrors her—comings and goings. In the night
sky clouds mask and unmask, Nee-ba-gee’sis—the moon. A thin veil 
of ice speaks. Birch branches commune with the falling snow.  
Safe in a sage-dream, grandmother smiles; she will not see sunrise.

Family surrounds Deaamo, they’ve come from the sweat lodge at sunset.
Charged with life, the room wavers in tobacco, and sage smoke. Spirit
breathes. Astral ancestors arrive on the beat of drum and drift of snow.
Strands of gray hair escape from her braids. Once, they were black,
now, they trail beside her bird-frail form leaving her face unveiled.
A withered hand clasps a cowrie shell—mee-ghis, a key to the darkness,
clasped in the other, a dream catcher to ward her grandchild’s night.
The lodge is empty. The clan comes to her from starry dark, to light
hearth fires. Outside, stars wait. They will guide her through the veil; 
bright beacons in a clearer sky. Inside and out are ancient wraiths. 
Friends surround chanting, drumming softly. Outside in the onyx black,
Pacugu hoots. A ring of blessed stones marks four directions in the snow;
the way west is plain. Presents for The Great Horned One lie in the snow.
Soon, Little Bee will enter the spirit house, between earth, and night sky.
Owl will lead her over the bridge, keeping her from an earth-bound darkness.
Grandmother is Iron Woman. She’s helped many under, Gee’sis—the sun;
she is good. She can read the glyphs and tells the best jiibay a—ghost
stories. Tonight, they listen as she tell her last story. The night’s veil 
thins. Her eldest granddaughter, Aamoo, sits on the bed’s edge hiding 
sadness behind her hands. “It’s beautiful outside Grandmother, snow
hangs heavy from the balsam pine. The fire is lit and the smoke ghosts
upward, showing the way to where Gichi Manidoo waits in the midnight
sky.” Grandmother’s eyelids flutter and her breath comes soft as sunlight.
The song fade. Deamoo murmurs, “Ready.” Sons carry her into the dark.

Oh so gently, they place her on furs and cover her with the pitch-black 
skin of a bear. “Tell me the Ladder story child.” Deamoo whispers “lift the veil.”
Surrounded by loved ones Aamoo speaks. “Long ago … when the sunset
on an old ones life, a shining spirit would come down the vine ladder—snow
or not Grandmother, a messenger from Manidoo would take them into the night
sky to the fork in the Milky Way.” Stars fill Grandmother’s eyes; she ghosts.

Earthly sounds fade into dark as Grandmother’s soul rises through snowflakes. 
Her husk, a lifted veil, releases her to the blue half-moon’s winter night.
Like the morning sun or evening moon; she ascends up the ladder; she ghosts.


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

GOD TOUCHES ME

My shoulders are blades of flesh,
they hold my skinny arms

to hands that hold this pen
across this page as it reaches
the end of a long lived life
that was meant to bend fold
and remend.

But these feet have already
left;  I can feel it in my chest.
These lips want to smile the 
day away;  I have nothing 
else to say.

Knees to my chin, how long
has that been?  To crouch, cuddle 
what is now so thin.  Press and
pull, it all fits in.  

The warmth and the cool.  These
toes are not mine, they belong to
the sublime.  Up my pants you 
will find my legs spindly; a jelly
belly that shakes in my tummy.

My thin arms hold loops of skin.
They are far away and my head needs 
covering; but the sun warms my neck
and my face is full of laughter because
God has reached out his hand to me.

Copyright © Gisele Vincent-Page | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love's Importance

I once was questioned by a man
Why each time when I lifted my pen
I always seemed to write of love
Whenever a new poem I would begin

Love, love, love, he shook his head
Much better you would surely be
If you wrote without using that word
Letting its spirit inwardly creep

Choosing carefully before I answered
Asking the spirit for the words to say
I simply said I am moved daily to write
About His amazing love with my praise

My faith I replied is also a real reason
I choose to embrace love within so near
And with its energy I know when I do
I will keep His Spirits presence near

But most of all by sharing loves beauty
I will resemble what He gives the best
And each day I will lead a joyful life
As part of His pure love which never rests.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pleasure in Possibilities


Writing my prose,
unmeasured.
Sometimes I try poesy,
another pleasure.
Untrained. Unskilled.
But, what a joy!
to freedom,
my thoughts I find.
And so, as day by weeks
would turn into a lifetime, could be
the possibilities concocted by gods
may be.

Copyright © Wendy Meyer | Year Posted 2013