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Prose Poetry Spiritual Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Spiritual

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Train, It Wasnt

“Train”

What do I do when the train is coming?
I was standing on the track
My life flashed before me
As I thought, did I live like that?
Did I live my life in bondage?
Too afraid to share my dreams
Could have soared just like an eagle
But never used my wings.

Here I stand my legs are trembling
As warm tears drenched my face
The presence of death was visible
And fear invaded my space
I stood starring at that train
So sure that I would die
No hero there to save me
No time to say goodbye

Then Calmness fell upon me
A voice whispered in my ear
That’s not a train that’s coming
There is nothing for you to fear
I heard you screaming out my name
And so I took the evening train
If I had come right away
You’d thought your strength had saved the day

I waited til there was nothing else to do
But cry for me to rescue you
So I lifted your head and I dried your eyes
Gave you wings as eagles
My child you can fly
Your burdens are lifted
You have inner peace
What was lost, I gave Increase

Chains are now broken
Dreams can come true
Released from your struggles
Your life is brand new
Your story re-written
I say how it ends
Remember, I am your God
Now your life can begin.


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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

IN THE MOMENT - I JUST AM

                   I Just Am


“In the ever present moment
you just are.”
That was it!  All he said in response
to my pleas for enlightenment.
Just be where you are
when you are supposed to be there.
Which I eventually figured out
meant always.
“How will I know if I am there
when I’m supposed to be there?”
He responded “If you are present
in the eternal present moment
you will be there when
you are supposed to be there.”
“Why are you here in this moment”
I asked.  He answered “because you
are here in this same moment”.
“God, I hate talking to you.”
“That’s because in this moment
you are supposed to be listening.”
The thought of condensing all of
his remaining present moments
into this one crossed my mind.”
“Why am I in these ever changing-
ever present moments.”
“Because the moment is ever present
 you are present in that moment
for a purpose.”
“And what would that purpose be?”
“That will become apparent to you
in that ever present moment.”
I am not sure what he was trying
to teach me, or if I ever learned it.
Somehow I came to realize one simple
inescapable fact as true – 
In the ever present moment -
I just am.

John G. Lawless
12/25/2014


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Familiarity

What is it about 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 | |

A Poem For You

Everytime I bring forth your image
From deep within the well of my mind
My heart begins shedding joyous tears
For your beautiful love that's mine

I can never escape feeling all the emotions
For they seem to overwhelm me each day
But just like the very first time I embraced you
The raging passion of my love will always stay

I was blessed the day you embraced me
That first moment you became my friend
And ever since your spirit held me close
My life changed as I was truly born again

You have never forsaken me a single day
Of the spiritual things which in life I need
And I love those very special moments
When your living word we together read

While I lift up my song of sweet love to you
Your daily showers of heaven's  joy begins
I humbly thank you for giving your life's blood
A perfect Easter sacrifice to forgive all our sins.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Cognizant:

Poems By Vicki Acquah

Cognizant:

You have shown to me
my GREATNESS
- YOU
Having been discerning 
But were not always 
in agreement
You were there for me. 
AWARE OF ME.'

You have known me
in my weakest flesh
You have marveled 
at my strong spirit.

I will have to visit 
you when I transition. 
You will know it's me still.

Not like some" Duppie " 
in a third rate cinema ! 
When I Come to you,
I will whisper poetry 
loudly and crassly-
in your ear,
in my stern voice.

"Yes it tis I" -
I will say..
You know me.
So when the air is not stirring.
I will be as a gentle breeze
floating over 
your body,caressing you.

Whilst your perception 
reveals me to your conscious.
When OTHERS- don't get me-
CANNOT FEEL me ,
CANNOT SEE ME.

Cognizant you are -
of my existence.
Awake - you are 
in my dreams 
and my reality. 
WHILE others slept on me.

You were fascinated by all of me,
analyzing the 
" tic tic" of my clock" 
Too aware of my very being.

Alert, even to my batting lashes.
responding 
with that certain look -
You'd address my emotions,
my humor and my dread.

Conscious of each 
others existence
sometimes we'd clash.
Wittingly we'd exchange love taps. 
stimulating the intellectual.

I am your muse-for now 
You are my smile for today. 
Often times you'd 
relent -pretending to be
simple, soft and unassuming.
Allowing me to be Just where I am


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Epiphany At Union Station


Union Station was littered and in disrepair, 'Out Of Order' signs bore witness. Discarded chewing gum and empty bottles, and the smells emanating from unemptied trash baskets... and in the midst of all this dislocation there he was... 
huddled in his wheelchair, his tray of trinkets proudly perched on a cardboard box, a makeshift table. Always cheerful, greeting commuters as they hurried past, but they never returned the smile forever gracing his weathered face. One day I stopped to say hello. His eyes brightened as he said, 

"Good day to you, good sir!" Can I interest you in any of my treasures?" 

I noticed he was shoeless, sockless, and made a mental note. 

"Right now I have to catch a train, 
but I'll return when I have more time, 
you have my word." 

"I'll be here, this is my world, you'll 
always be most welcome!" he explained, 

and I disappeared into the teeming crowd. Foregoing my schedule I returned the next day, anxious to peruse his wares, and continue our conversation. It turned out he was a Vet who'd fallen on hard times. I sat and listened while he told me his story. A man displaced by a society who would forever be in his debt. "I'll be right back," I said. I had a plan. Returning from the store, armed with sneakers, socks and a sponge, I cleaned his feet, pulled on his socks and laced up his brand new Nikes. He was overwhelmed, and by way of payment gave me a pendant bearing the inscription, 'Semper Fi.' 

"This will bring you good fortune, my friend, 
wear it, and your heart will be free of strife, 
and your days will be filled with sunshine! 
Remember me and treasure it, that is all I ask." 

Next day, as I was crossing the concourse, I saw he was no longer at his station, 
my friend, his wheelchair, and his tray of trinkets all were gone. I hoped that where he went he was cared for and comforted, and if he had shuffled off this mortal coil that he was in the arms of God. 

Was he seen by anyone but me? 

I believed with all my heart he was an Angel... 



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.


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


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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Doorway

I’ve cut my hands on the broken screen door
of dreams meant to be deserted;
I can feel the rush of inclusion in a state of decay
as it gasps open against tucked in eyelids.
Smiles caught in dim headlights,
before the empty sway of drunken iron
drips from my palms as
inertia drives it all to fruition,
abstract revelations come to life.
My eyes stutter, fighting to 
keep them alive. 
I press reddened palms against 
the dusty doorway, count in
cadence meant for a heartbeat,
and breath in harmonic patience 
with something I wish I could understand,
but my sort of muscles are too weak to make an 
impact, my palms have become imprinted with the wake 
of trembling foundation’s sorrow.
               ….I look at them
pruned by the sour chaste of possibility;
rivers of emptiness run through my 
own imperfections. 
I’ve mended nothing.
they’re still…
cold. 
These dreams are stone,
and I am only flesh;
Pounding my fists against a doorway
that has long forgotten I am here. 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Epiphany At Union Station


The Station was littered and in disrepair, 
'Out Of Order' signs bore witness. 
Discarded chewing gum and empty bottles, 
and the smells emanating from unemptied 
trash baskets... and in the midst 
of all this dislocation there he was,

huddled in his wheelchair, 
his tray of trinkets proudly perched 
on a cardboard box, a makeshift table. 
Always cheerful, greeting commuters 
as they hurried past, but they never returned 
the smile forever gracing his weathered face. 

One day I stopped to say hello. 
His eyes brightened as he said 
"Good day to you, good sir!" 
Can I interest you in any of my treasures?" 
I noticed he was shoeless, sockless, 
and made a mental note. 

"Right now I have to catch a train, 
but I'll return when I have more time, 
you have my word." 
"I'll be here, this is my world, you'll 
always be most welcome!" he explained, 
as I disappeared into the teeming crowd. 

Foregoing my schedule I returned the next day, 
anxious to peruse his wares, and continue 
our conversation. It turned out he was a Vet 
who'd fallen on hard times. I sat and listened 
while he told me his story. A man displaced 
by a society who would forever be in his debt. 

"I'll be right back," I said. I had a plan. 
Returning from the store, armed with sneakers, 
socks and a sponge, I cleaned his feet, 
pulled on his socks and laced up his 
brand new Nikes. He was overwhelmed, 
and by way of payment gave me a pendant 
bearing the inscription, 'Semper Fi.' 

"This will bring you good fortune, my friend, 
wear it, and your heart will be free of strife, 
and your days will be filled with sunshine! 
Remember me and treasure it, that is all I ask." 

Next day, as I was crossing the concourse, 
I saw he was no longer at his station, 
my friend, his wheelchair, and his tray of trinkets 
all were gone. I hoped that where he went 
he was cared for and comforted, and if he had shuffled 
off this mortal coil that he was in the arms of God. 

Was he seen by anyone but me? 

I believed with all my heart he was an Angel... 


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 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A light in the dark

You are a light in the dark

the shadows follow but Your

love stands inside to keep me holding

Your hand so wide.



You are a light in the dark

it's scary out here in the

deep wide world that's not my home,

but Your love holds onto my heart

deep inside we never depart.


Your a light in the dark

when I feel so alone

You take hold of the inner parts

deep in my soul.


Oh Lord, how I long to be home,

YOUR my true light in the dark.



Written By:©Betty Bolden


Details | Prose Poetry | |

SCRATCHED BUT NEVER BROKEN

Expression is being who you want to be
Not perpetrating someone you claim to be for ME
Trying to hold me hostage with your lies…
Thinking because you were between my thighs that you got me hook lined and sinked….
Getting me all vexed, tensed and unsure of my own emotional rationalization
Emotionally retarded LITTLE MAN you are….
Hiding in your private world filled with
DECEPTION, CAMOUFLAGE and over used ADJECTIVES….
I understand why you were drawn
To my VOLUPTUOUS, SEXUAL, SPIRITUAL ENERGY
You wanted to experience what is
REAL
TRUE 
PURE
You had your chance
You speaking in parables, emotionally crippled, insecure MAN…..
I can’t believe I let you get into my head let alone my BED….
But you could never penetrate my spiritual man…
I was before you CAME….
I will always BE the SAME….
G.O.P
GODS…. 
ORIGINAL…. 
PROPERTY

SCRATCHED BUT NEVER BROKEN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dark Night

Dark night of my soul
Where fear and pain reside,
As rulers on their throne,
What courage cannot muster
To fight this battle within
And overcome its hold.
I seek to find resolve
To enter and seek a way to find
A way to remove its hold
In the dark night of my soul
And morning joy I seek
When it’s time does peak.
Dark nigh its lessons bring
If I seek to find them, 
While morning waits to come.


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 | |

As Simple as That

Impressive doesn't impress
Keep it simple 
My soul whispered
Touch the ground
Feel the dirt
As simple as that
Clap your hands
Slap your face
Hurt is the cost to wake
As simple as that
You can write big
Diamonds and pearls
For stones of words
I ask you my child
How genuine do you express
When you desire to impress
Write to express
Not just to impress
As simple as that


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 | |

DANCE OF SOULS

Salty air breathed from crystalline peaks
I breathe in And catch a glimpse 
of the dancing, bowed bodies.

They perform a graceful ballet;
like arrows shot from an archer’s bow;
they leap, breach and roll.

Their eyes have seen ages of brine and shifting sands.
I wonder if they really are the “Watchers”; 
like the “Dogon” stories portray them.
Did they once have legs instead of fins 
and can we really be their children?

Perhaps that is why they are so quick to help us;
Why a child who can not speak can suddenly come to life?
He won’t be silenced again, 
after all, he swam with the dolphins.  
Could it be the magic of the dance that heals?

Odd, that they are always there when needed
And can transform a stagnating life 
into a miraculous moment of rebirth!


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


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 | |

Quantum Traveler

I rode a cloud to kiss a star
and it embraced me with its love light.
The universal eye…smiled.

Echoing energy sang of brotherhood;
angels don’t have any restricted clubs.
One is all and all is one.

The atomic transporter
never charges for a ride.
Currency is a mortal failing.

Dancing across invisible strings; 
I hear the harmony of celestial song, 
as it, eternally resounds.

Quantum leaping through timeless black holes;
I met myself and sang a reunion duet.

Elemental celebrations, lend a soul wisdom;
timeless secrets reveal themselves,
to souls on quantum journeys.

Inside, eternity’s map,
read only by belief; 
shows the quantum interstates, leading home.


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


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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Still

Haven’t they seen where time stands still and the sun kisses the morning sky 
Running free from the break of day, laughter echoing for miles
Oh yes, it was easier then, when we were only 10
Spirit alive with tomorrows promise and innocence 
Watching sunsets disappear and then soon came the years

Innocence, memories from an easier time
Beauty fades, but not for you, I can see through
The soul never weathered and aged like your skin  
Spirit worn from facing each day without hope 
The soul renewed, found peace, stayed true 

Honesty is living life through your soul.
Life is more than meets the eye. 
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder 
And eyes are the gateway to the soul. 

Souls which have no color decend unharmed
Reality unmasked, the soul of compassion and forgiveness
Teach the young that they possess a power
To love each other past our cover.

When time is gone, the soul remains as the body decays
Before the end, slow down, enjoy the still
Give your soul to another who truly sees you
Taking only what you need to see truth
Be still and listen to what remains unspoken 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Contrast

Pharisee went into the Temple to pray
Sure of his goodness and love for God
He prayed confidently about his deeds
Fasting, tithing, praying, He did faithfully
 
This man was glad when the sinner came
Into the Temple with eyes downcast.
For it gave a perfect contrast to himself.
So he thanked God he wasn't like this sinner.
 
Sinner was bowed so very low before God.
"God have mercy on me a sinner." he whispered.
No list of good uttered, as he could see none.
Jesus said Sinner not Pharisee was justified.
 
Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus over to eat.
Simon didn't have servants wash Jesus feet
He didn't kiss Jesus or draw near for fear,
Fear of what others Pharisees would think.
 
In came a sinful woman with unkempt hair.
She wept at Jesus feet without looking up.
Carefully she wiped these feet with her hair.
Simon was now sure Jesus was no prophet
 
A prophet could surely tell she was a sinner.
How could he let her touch him that way?
Reading Simon's thoughts Jesus taught.
Using this contrast in real life as a lesson.
 
He asked Simon if there were two debts
One greater, one lesser and both forgiven.
Who would feel greater love and gratitude?
Simon replied, "The one whose debt was greater"
 
"Correct" said the One who would pay all debts.
Those who know their debt to God is great.
Are filled with greater love toward the Savior.
Simon showed he had little need for the Christ.
 
But to the woman. Jesus said, "You sins are forgiven."
"Go and sin no more." She stood free and esteemed
Precious are those who come humbly to the Lord
He will forgive and welcome them to His Family forever.
 
Humility. Pride. Contrast. Mixed in all of us.
People who come to God feeling worthless, Christ lifts up.
People striding in proudly, Jesus humbles to allow entry.
For the Lord's Kingdom's door is incredibly low.
So low that we enter only through true confession
From the heart to Jesus as Savior who humbled Himself
Coming down from glory to earth's mess to make a Way.
By humbling Himself on a Cross – Universe's God tortured.
 
Jesus contrast makes ours seem small – so why wait?
May we take the humble road to Life, risen Christ made.
Joining God's family of forgiven, freed, joyful sinners.
New life's contrast with old will grow as we follow Him.
 
By a thankful sinner now saint by Jesus' grace