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Spiritual Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Spiritual

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

A Child's Peace

Tell me of your peace. 
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place 
As it gently sloughs the pain away 
Tell me of your peace 
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind 
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace 
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know 
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease, 
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here 
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now 
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies 
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free 
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within 
Waiting for you
For you to let it be


Details | Prose Poetry |

REINCARNATION THINKING

REINCARNATION THINKING?

Life is like a coloring book
with few or many pages
filled with complex 
outlined images.

We are given a box of crayons
and are asked to color in the 
background and spaces of the images

Sub-titles are allowed.

When the coloring book is finished
we are given a new one to complete.

C.A.K. 12-6-2012


REINCARNATION THINKING 2 -SOUL SEARCHING

Was I once before or never
Don’t know how or even whether

I was a firefly, a bird of prey 
a centipede, a fish fillet?

A baseball fan to keep the score
a mockingbird, a carnivore?

A blossom in the midst of spring
a sign of what the day might bring.

A germ grown in a Petri dish
a chicken bone an unmade wish

All things and species could I be,
even remnants of a tree.

Of all of these,  I leave this post,
I am for now what I am most.

CAK 7-23-2012



MORE QUESTIONS ON RE-INCARNATION

As 'core' beliefs thicken so, 
does it leave us room to grow?
As aging souls say we must, 
complete the cycle which was thrust
upon our bucolic living place 
turned upside down in whorling space
searching for a redemptive life.

But for you, dearest one, do you not remember 
before you arrived, you took this bucking horse of soul, 
tamed it, labeled it and proclaimed it. 
To become what you needed in order
that your ride be contained and controlled. 
It's name is 'balance' and it keeps you level in the saddle 
so you don't fall off. 

10-3-2012


REINCARNATION THINKING 3 -

If, we are on a soul journey,
then what must that soul become?

A better soul? A wiser soul?
A sad soul? A learned soul?
Until one reaches the end of time,

There are so many lives to live out
to fully experience all aspects of this world.
Animals, plants - more souls searching?

One can speculate, but from my perspective
none of it makes sense.

CAK 4-03-2012


REINCARNATION ENDING

Was the Phoenix reincarnated?
Or was its embers reignited?  
Perhaps before a lowly worm or soldier bee 
or brown turned leaf upon a tree? 
A  seahorse, a shark, which fish shall I be?  
In fisherman's net to be eaten by me?  
And when the cycle is complete 
and x equals x on our balance sheet.
Can we then rest in a celestial lair 
with memories gone and unaware
of trials by all things forgotten?
If choose I must or chosen by me,  
I'll remain in the stars and just wait to see.

6-2-2012


Details | Prose Poetry |

Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"


Details | Prose Poetry |

That Which You Critcize Is That Which You Become #2

Judgment destroys our harmony. Judging corrupts our spiritual integrity. Being judged tears 
at our soul. All are simultaneous and instantaneous. At the moment judgment is passed upon 
another being or situation, the essence of our existence is diminished. We move from a 
higher to a lower spiritual plane in the universe as the attack is felt emotionally by all parties 
in the form of synchronized fear or shame. Each experience happens in varying degrees. It 
is through experiencing what we criticize that redemption is allowed to take place. Empathy 
replaces scrutiny and love transcends superiority. Such a phenomenon does not happen 
overnight and oftentimes numerous transgressions are employed before such states are 
reached. 
The fortunate learn to understand the cycles of karma and the parts they play by undergoing 
various levels of transformation. When we endure that which we judge, we identify with 
another’s plight and learn to sympathize with the condition that we damned. We move from 
feeling superior to a place of kinship. Once this is realized, judgment is made with more 
caution and our insights become more introspective. We become enlightened by the notion 
that it is more advantageous to look within ourselves and strive to be more conscientious of 
doing good works than to look outside of ourselves for fault. Others are oblivious to this 
notion and choose to ignore the opportunity to evolve, thereby stunting the cycling process. 
In these cases of stagnation, there is no remedy for the error of estimation. It’s not until we 
walk in another’s shoes that we appreciate the circumstance. If no correlation is recognized 
between the judgment and the similar experience, no awakening takes place and, therefore, 
no lesson is learned.

Continued


Details | Prose Poetry |

Familiarity

What is it to me
that I cannot place you
in the picture painted by the years
the life has already spent?
Do you merely lurk,
and leave at a much later time?
Or, 
maybe
you are staying
because 
    you 
        are 
           meant
                to 
                   stay.

Then,
stay.
If you may.
I pray.
While I find a place (for us)
in the picture of eternities,
the gods must be 
hiding, 
conspiring;
themselves amusing.


Ah, the grand scheme of things -
                            a forgetting.
A familiar spirit we feel -
                            a remembering.     


(Note) This piece was inspiredly written for the beautiful souls - even the strangers - I have met along the way and will still come upon in my lifetime. To each special one, you have stirred quite a familiar spirit within. A remembrance of forgotten past, I suppose. Thank you for letting me peak through your soul's window. The veil of forgetfulness has never been thin as now to me. You have so given me a gift I shall treasure in the moments I may tend to forget who I truly am - a being with a soul.



Details | Prose Poetry |

Blood on the Mirror

You prod at the sores of your heart
with a hemorrhaging pen, wishing it was 
a scalpel; so you could carve 
out the disease that keeps 
your rage alive. 
Basic instinct, I suppose.
To slay the demons,
that made you who you are. 
You thank them for your posture,
but scold the obsidian eyes in the 
mirror. What you have become:
Callous, and engulfed in the 
rotting theater you thought 
you controlled. The reigns 
have broken loose, your 
skull whips in the wind of 
chaos. It’s not really your 
sort of dance, you know…
                                      You don’t know the steps
              …you don’t even know the song. 
It drums against your flesh
as if you were already stripped 
and tanned, spread across 
the hallowed instruments 
                             of reckoning.
But you can’t hear the chant,
only the distant hum of the
butcher who said you could
call him “friend”.
That you were safe,
if only you would show him
what you promised you would
never show anyone.
It drips,
            thick,
                      coagulated,
                                           dirty.
Just like every part of you,
you wish you could burn;
As you dig the covenant,
into the flesh of your enemy;
                                          Your only true, enemy. 
The mirror cracks…
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Fire and Merlot

I remember the honeyed words,
and the
               ...anticipation
 of the touch that rendered time irrelevant.
I hear laughter in the next room;
astounded at the drunk and the blind.
it’s all so fleeting; we turn to dust in a heartbeat
                                                    ...fading
I speak in logic and move inside of thunder.
 as my skin is peeled away,
as shadowed eyes follow me,
and I feel fingers reaching from the grave,
 the familiarity of your nails scratching
down my back and ancient melodies we shared
that reflect our persistent missteps;
 the ones that buried me alive.
 
I remember the creaky floors that
carried you to our bed,
The crimson sheets where we danced;
We found harmony in this place
As the world stoked it’s flame around us.
 
I can still hear the echoes,
Distant and smoldering.
 
“My love was born in your eyes,
                   Don’t you ever look away.”
 
Your face hides in the mirror,
Lost inside my own empty stare.
 
You promised me forever.
But beneath this broken glass,
I can hear it all shatter.
 
 
Can you remember how you asked me
 if we could turn back time?
The ash that we laid to waste
 between your chains
and my misgivings set ablaze
in our lovemaking
Now time is timeless for you
 and I feel you, erotic in your ghosting touches
I still claw to hold on to this life
You're essence caresses and taunts me
your touch is warm, from the other side
 ...of this veil
Our hands release from their dance,
as your dead, coarse skin withers and dries
...no hope for a final embrace
 
But I can still taste your merlot stained lips;
The way they brushed against mine.
I can still feel your pulse rushing to meet
My own.
 
Your voice, and it’s promises.
 
“This world can burn us down,
                          But our ashes will be spread together.”
 
 
 
-Katherine Wyatt and James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Holy Passion

ALERT: A carpenter's son is loose in the Temple
Birds flutter, animals hustle, merchants scream.
The zeal for Jesus' Father's house consumes Him
As the place for foreigners to pray had become a zoo.
 
ALERT: A prophet is setting up for a Baal battle.
Baal's priests even cut themselves yet no fire.
After taunting, Elijah fills his altar with water.
Calling on God, fire consumes and people bow.
 
ALERT: An old man is building a huge boat ship.
Without a cloud in the sky and only son's to help.
When finished the animals come on call to board.
Rain starts, doors close – 8 saved by holy passion.
 
ALERT: Jesus is telling a tax collector he'll join him for dinner.
Heedless of the Pharisees despising and the crowd's surprise.
Zacchaeus totally changes – offering to multiply stolen money.
A single sinner saved multiplies even more this holy passion.
 
ALERT: Peter plus are preaching in the Temple again.
After being imprisoned for just that, now rearrested.
Whipped by the authorities, the disciples rejoice -
For they've been counted worthy to suffer with Christ.

ALERT: Daniel's praying openly even after it's become illegal.
The royal advisers gleefully have the king throw him to the lions.
Strangely they don't seem hungry till after Daniel is pulled out.
So the king openly praises Daniel's God for this amazing miracle.
 
DOUBLE ALERT: Jesus is talking to a Samaritan woman!!!!
Breaking cultural barriers to share the message of salvation
To her who has been married 5 times and is living with the 6th.
She believes he's the Messiah and brings the town to Christ!
 
ALERT: Paul's going back into the same town that stoned him.
He's preaching again after shipwreck, jail, beatings, and such.
Persecution seems to encourage Paul that he's doing the right.
Passionately following the Savior who turned Him 180 degrees.
 
ALERT: Bible translators burned at the stake for God's Word.
Missionaries avoid death and disease long enough to share life.
Stirring Holy Passion in receptive people who repeat the cycle.
Changing cultures in bondage into those sharing Jesus' love.
 
ALERT: What passion has the Lord put on your heart? Mine?
Can we pray to see His will find its way in our everyday lives
So the lost shall see, hear, find Christ and grow to share Him?
Eternity is forever, this life is not. Fill us Lord with holy passion.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Refrigerator Love

Refrigerator Love (Poem)
God, I don't really know why You made the breadth of Your Son's arms stretch far enough apart to allow your living breath inside of dying lungs like mine. My sin is the tree cut down and shaped into the crucifix. For years, I took the blood of Your Son and smeared it over the wood, trying to splinter the genes from Your hands from ever matching mine. 
So why are you still molding me in Your image? I've always been attracted to the wrong people, places and things like a noun with bad grammar, but You spell I love you all over my surface like refrigerator magnets until it sticks. I've been outdated since the day I was born, and the 90's left my life so fast I swear they ran to the 21st century outlet to pick up a better model of me. My insides have grown freezer frigid over the years, but You've kept my heart preserved. I've left a few more spoiled memories on my shelves longer than I would've liked. Back then, I just loved the look of them still alive in me so much that I never learned to let go when I thought my life was still in one piece. Compost my past like the gardener You are. I'm on my knees begging to You to plant and harvest seeds in Your fields that will grow into fruits without expiration dates. Father, Your food is eternal because Your love is everlasting. Reverse me like a walking tomb, and let me be the body for Your Spirit to live in.
Tend to my inside circuits, and help me be a bright, electrical vessel,
Continually kept running through the night so others can see You too.


Details | Prose Poetry |

TRIALS & TRIBULATION

My ability to love
Is sometimes tested
Giving of myself without protection
Attracting the fundamental nature of people that are not forthcoming
I ask myself why?
Is it the yin and yang of the spiritual forces?
The wolf that eats the sheep
Maybe it’s the spirit of Christ that resonates in me
The enemy wanting to destroy GODS creation
Denying my predestination to come to full term
Fighting to align myself with my creator’s will for me
Praying that victory will be on my side
Milk no longer I require
Spiritual enrichment enables me to eat meat
Converting retained bones into spiritual arrows  
TARGETED STRAIGHT FOR MY ENEMIES


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